With Small Steps
by Boogum
Summary: Mistakes once made cannot be undone, nor can consequences be ignored. A newly crowned Fire Lord is no exception.
1. Prologue

I started writing this story a few years back, but at that point I had been planning to quit fanfiction (after finishing my works in progress) and ended up deleting it along with many of my other barely started works. Well, it's kind of obvious that I haven't quit fanfiction, so here we go with take two.

Needless to say, this story is the expanded version of 'Atonement' from my _Where the Ocean and Sky Collide_ collection. It will be a lot more serious than my usual stories, but I have some interesting twists and turns planned. I hope you will enjoy. Oh, and the cover art is by jesterry (will forever be grateful for participating in that particular Zutara Secret Santa. Yay for art gifts).

* * *

 **Prologue**

Zuko struggled to catch his breath. His limbs felt like jelly, overwhelmed by the sensations and raw pleasure that had seized him just moments ago. Sweat clung to his body in a fine sheen—clung to both their bodies. Katara lay panting underneath him with her legs spread. He shifted to hold himself up on his elbows, skin sliding against her skin in sticky dampness as he looked down into her eyes. The fog was beginning to clear in his mind—in both their minds—and what he saw in her gaze had his heart clenching in a trap of unease. She looked scared, almost horrified, as if she couldn't believe what she had just done.

"I—" he began, licking his lips.

Katara shoved him off her before he could finish his sentence. The tiny hiss of pain she made when he slid out of her sounded far too loud to his ears. He hit the ground: naked, graceless. She snatched up her clothes and gave him a wild-eyed look as she stood to her full height, like an animal about to bolt. In that moment he could see her shame, her lust, her naked fear.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," she said in a shaky voice, trying to appear intimidating but only succeeding in looking small and vulnerable. "I'll know if you do, and I'll—I'll—" she compressed her lips together, trying to get a hold of herself.

Zuko reached out for her. "Katara—"

"Don't!" she cried, flinching away from his hands. "Just don't—don't touch me."

He paused, not quite able to hide the flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Fine," he said flatly, "but before you start turning me into the monster who stole your virginity, just remember that you were the one who kissed me first."

She stared at him through overly bright eyes, but he just turned the other way. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had upset him. He felt used and dirty, like some plaything to be enjoyed while the moment lasted and then tossed aside when reality came knocking again. It was humiliating, wounding, and a part of him wanted to shout at this girl; to demand who the hell she thought she was that she could just string him along like this, playing hot and cold with his emotions as if it was nothing.

"Just go away," he muttered when she remained silent. "You obviously want to pretend that nothing happened, so forget it. Leave. I won't tell a soul."

She didn't move.

Zuko repressed a sigh and turned back to look at her. "What?" he snapped. "Why are you still here? What is it that you want from me?"

It was an echo of his earlier words—the frustrated words he had thrown at her when he had first cornered her against the mural wall, desperate to understand why she refused to accept his apology and let them both move on. Katara must have recognised it too, as her eyes flickered to his in a skittish glance. However, this time there was no impulsive kiss, no blood-tingling fire. She just stared at her feet, clutching her clothes to her chest to hide her naked body. He let out a small breath. She wasn't even going to answer.

Katara tugged on her robe and made her escape, leaving him alone in the mural room. Zuko didn't bother to follow her; instead, he placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of him. There was no comprehending what had just happened. Everything had spiralled out of his control so quickly, and now he just felt confused. So torn between feelings of anger and desire and shame.

"Stupid," he muttered. "So stupid."

He should have never kissed her back. He should have never allowed himself to be caught up in the moment, but it was too late to reconsider his actions now. The damage had already been done; he'd had sex with Katara. He'd let her take from him the last of his innocence, even as he had snatched away her own. Regret was a bitter taste on his tongue, choking and sickening.

He just wished he could forget. He wished he could erase everything and start fresh.

But he couldn't forget. Not the next day, nor the day after. She had finally left him alone and stopped being so openly antagonistic, but that did little to comfort him. Every glance was a reminder. Every accidental brush was a memory of frantic kisses; of racing pulses and clumsy hands, touching and being touched in places that had never been touched before. Zuko hated it. He couldn't stand being reminded of his mistake.

Of how utterly ashamed she made him feel.

But it wasn't until six weeks later that he realised the full consequences of what they had done that night in the Western Air Temple. His father and Azula had both been defeated. Everything was supposed to be resolved now. _Happy_. Zuko had been formally crowned Fire Lord and his first speech had been well received by the people. All he had to do now was get through the main inauguration party. Everyone had gathered, all there to support him—even Katara was present. Except then Toph had made that odd comment and Zuko had just felt sick, his insides trying to force their way out of him as panic and dismay gripped his heart.

Because Toph had sensed two heartbeats inside Katara, and that changed everything.

* * *

So, if you've read the original you'll realise that I cut the entire sex/smut scene. FFN is pretty strict on its ratings these days, and I just prefer to not get too explicit anyway.

To clarify a few plot/canon divergence things, Zuko and Katara never became close friends in this AU's timeline. They did not go together to find Yon Rha, nor did she fight beside him to stop Azula. Instead, they did the naughty together at the Western Air Temple after a heated argument, freaked out about it (as we saw), and pretty much avoided each other as much as possible after that. So, yes, their relationship is still quite tense and there are unresolved issues.

And that brings us to where the real story begins …


	2. Consequences

**Consequences**

The inauguration party ended up being a disaster. Toph's puzzled question about why Katara had two heartbeats had set off a chain reaction of demands and explanations that had ended in Katara fleeing the party and a very pale Fire Lord being whisked off by his uncle. She and Zuko hadn't even had a chance to talk to each other. Not that Katara was sure if she wanted to talk to him. Her emotions were all over the place. She didn't know what was up and down; all she knew was that the same words kept repeating over and over and over in her head, like a tattoo imprinting into her mind.

 _I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant._

Fear coiled in her belly; it tightened in her chest so that it felt like the panic was crushing her lungs. She walked blindly through the palace grounds. The fine dress she had been gifted snagged against bushes and trailed on the gravel paths. She wasn't certain how much time had passed since she had fled the party. It had all become a blur. A part of her wanted someone to hold her and tell her it would be okay, but she also couldn't bear to face anyone. She felt stupid and small and alone.

It had only been one time. One mistake.

Light flickered in the distance. Katara paused, hearing a familiar sound of rapid blasts. Someone was firebending. She found her feet dragging her towards the area. Sticking to the shadows, she passed through an archway and saw that it was some kind of training ground, with stone pillars set out on either side to frame the slightly raised platform in the middle. The bender hadn't seen her yet. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognised him. It was Zuko. He had thrown off his ceremonial robes and headpiece, so that he was wearing only a loose undershirt and pants. Fire flashed around him in orange bursts, hot and dangerous.

Katara swallowed. Without intending, she found herself staring at the boy: at his lean body, so lithe and graceful, shifting into each stance like a beautifully crafted blade; at the shaggy mop of hair that veiled his eyes and obscured the scar that twisted the left side of his features. It wasn't difficult to see why she had succumbed to her attraction all those weeks ago. Zuko had been so close that night. Too close. All that passion and intensity he carried within him had burned in his eyes, his very presence, like a brilliant spark of light. She had been nothing more than a moth hovering in front of a flame, yearning to get closer.

So she had. And she regretted it bitterly.

Zuko stumbled on his form. He stopped and punched a blast of flames into the air with a hoarse yell, obviously frustrated. Katara didn't fool herself in thinking that it was because he had messed up.

She turned to leave, but her foot caught one of the loose pebbles and made it ricochet off another with a small clack. Zuko froze. She winced. His eyes zoned in on her; she could feel his gaze like prickles against her skin.

"Katara."

The sound of her name on his lips made her stomach flop, though there was nothing pleasant about the sensation.

"I was just leaving," she said stiffly.

He moved in an instant, graceless and almost frantic as he closed the distance between them and clasped her wrist. "Wait."

She flinched at his touch. He let her go as if burned.

"We need to talk about this," Zuko said, still half-barring her path.

Katara averted her face. "What's there to say?"

"How about the fact you're pregnant with my child?"

Her hands trembled. She clenched them into fists, even as she swallowed against the hard lump in her throat.

"Were you even going to tell me?" His voice was low and raspy. He sounded hurt.

"I only found out tonight as well," she responded. "It's not like I was trying to keep it a secret from you."

Zuko nodded. He seemed to accept her answer as truth. Still, she couldn't stand being with him like this. Even if she had long admitted that he wasn't an evil person—that he had indeed changed, just as he had claimed—the two had always been reluctant allies at best. He had saved her life a couple of times and she had saved his, but that was all. Being near each other, speaking with each other; it was something she did not enjoy. Not at all. Their interactions were too laden with tension.

Of reminders of a foolish mistake and her own weakness.

Katara bit her lip. "I—I have to go."

She tried to walk away, but he stepped more into her path.

"Move," she demanded, even as she stared at their feet. His boots got closer. She could feel his presence in front of her: warm, solid and making the air between them hum with energy. Her pulse quickened and she swallowed. "Zuko—"

"I'm not going to let you run from this," he said simply. "Not this time."

Katara's lip curled. She swept her arm back, uncorking the flask hidden beneath the folds of her dress and creating an arc of water. "I have nothing further to say to you," she gritted out. "Get out of my way!"

Zuko didn't budge. "You think this is any easier for me? You think I really want to make peace with you after you—" he struggled to get the words out "—you used me and humiliated me?"

Katara froze. The lump in her throat was getting bigger, building and building until she could hardly swallow.

"I hate this just as much as you do, Katara," Zuko continued bitterly. "I wish I had never gone near you that night, but that still won't change the fact that you're pregnant with my child. What's done is done. Nothing can change that."

She closed her eyes, accepting the truth of his words even as she hated him for saying it. "Then what?" she managed to say in a hoarse voice. "What are you suggesting?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what to do."

They were both silent. Katara lowered her hand, guiding the water back into her flask. She felt oddly deflated, like all the energy had been sucked out of her. Both knew that they did not love each other. This was all wrong. The feelings that had brought them together and created the child growing in her womb were all wrong: the lust, the desperation, the unspoken fear that they might lose the war.

But they had not lost. All had been resolved. All except this mess their weakness had created.

"Uncle will want to talk to you," Zuko said after a moment.

"Why?"

She felt numb, not even certain how her mouth was forming words.

"I'm the Fire Lord, and you're not exactly a nobody. It's not like we're going to be able to keep this between ourselves—especially not after the spectacle Sokka and Aang made at the party."

Katara moistened her dry lips. She had not considered that the consequences of their actions might extend beyond their own little circle. She could still remember the betrayed look in Aang's eyes; the disappointment that Sokka had not quite been able to disguise. She was definitely not looking forward to telling her father and grandmother, let alone returning to her village. Still, the concept that other people outside of her friends and family might have a say was new to her.

She fixed her gaze on Zuko. He was the one averting his face now, staring off to the side as if he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Her eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

Zuko somehow seemed to shrink into himself. "I—there still might be a way to get around it. Uncle said he would do his best."

"Do his best for what?"

He made a frustrated sound. "What do you think? I told you, didn't I? I'm the Fire Lord. Worse, I'm still trying to earn my people's trust and prove to them—not to mention the world—that I'm worthy of ruling the Fire Nation. It doesn't look good when a sixteen-year-old Fire Lord, fresh to his role, gets a girl pregnant out of wedlock. Especially not when she's the famous waterbender who taught and fought beside the Avatar. Half the people think you're Aang's girlfriend!"

The lump seemed to slip down her throat, settling like a heavy weight in her stomach. "Aang and I aren't dating."

"That doesn't matter." Zuko ran a hand through his hair, turning the other way. "Uncle warned that there would likely be only two choices for us. Either you or I give up all right to the child so one of us will neverbe allowed to acknowledge the baby as our own—and even then he's not sure that would work—or we would have to have a fireblast wedding."

More weights seemed to join the first, making her feel sick and like there was something trying to twist itself into knots inside her stomach. The first choice was unthinkable; the second was unpleasant. She'd never heard the term "fireblast wedding", but she could guess what it might mean. No wonder Zuko had come out here to vent with firebending.

"I don't want to marry you," she said bluntly.

"You're not exactly my first pick either," he retorted. "I'm just telling you what my uncle told me so that you're prepared."

"You don't rule over me, Zuko. Fire Nation politics have nothing to do with me."

There was something bitter about the way his lip curled. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you had sex with me."

Katara inhaled sharply. In one quick motion she had raised her hand and slapped him hard in the face. He did not try to dodge the blow. Instead, he flexed his jaw to ease the pain and turned his back on her.

"Uncle will come find you at some point," he said in a flat voice. "You'd best start thinking about what you want to do."

"There's nothing to think about! Just because I'm pregnant with your child doesn't mean—"

"Wake up!" Zuko snapped, rounding on her. "You're living in a dream if you think you can get everything you want! You chose to be with me that night; you chose _this_! Maybe the fact I'd become Fire Lord didn't factor into your messed up desire to have sex with a guy you clearly hate, but this is the way things are now." He stepped closer. "There are going to be consequences that we can't escape. I've already accepted that; it's about time you did as well."

Her breathing quickened as she struggled to keep her temper under control. Not that Zuko stuck around to hear her response. He walked past her and gathered up his robe and headpiece, then stalked out of the training ground. She glared at his retreating figure, wanting to yell after him—wanting to say that she wouldn't let politics or anything else dictate her life or what she should do with her baby.

Except it wasn't just her baby. It was Zuko's too. That was something she couldn't deny. A part of her could even admit that she was being unreasonable—perhaps had always been unreasonable when it came to him. It wasn't something she liked to dwell on much; in fact, she tried her best to bury those feelings far down inside her where no one, not even herself, could see. No one liked to acknowledge their ugly side. Still, a part of her did know that she had hurt Zuko when she had turned on him that night. She had only been upset with herself for giving into her attraction, but she had taken that self-loathing out on him.

Had always taken everything out on him.

The anger that had welled within Katara faded in an instant, snatching her energy with it. She slumped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to hold herself up. Something hot prickled in the corners of her eyes. She blinked, shocked a little when she felt wetness. Crying was not something she did often. She couldn't afford that luxury since she had been forced to step up when her mum died. Now she couldn't seem to stop. The tears spilled down her cheeks. Her throat burned. She gasped for breath, choking on sobs and making ugly, awful noises.

"I found her."

The voice—Suki's voice—made her flinch. Katara swiped at her face and scrambled to her feet. She tried to escape before they could corner her, but then Sokka was there to grip her arms and hold her in place.

"Katara," he said, sounding so much older than his sixteen years, "stop."

Those two words broke her. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she collapsed against his chest, burrowing her face into his tunic. His arms came around her in an instant. It felt good to be hugged, but it also set her off crying even more. She made those ugly, awful noises again as she struggled to breathe—struggled to contain herself—but Sokka just held her tighter.

"Shh," he murmured, rubbing her back. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

Katara hiccupped on a sob. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey, don't worry. Zuko isn't a bad guy. I'm sure he won't leave you to deal with this alone." Sokka's voice darkened. "He'll be dealing with me if he does."

Katara shook her head. "That's not what I'm worried about."

He pulled back in surprise. "It's not?"

"I don't _love_ him, Sokka." Katara bit her lip and looked the other way. "I—it was a mistake. I never thought—it wasn't supposed to—"

Sokka let out a low whistle. "That's kind of messed up."

She flinched. Suki told him off for being tactless.

"Sorry," he said. "I just—wow. I mean, I thought you guys had been keeping your relationship a secret from us or something. I didn't realise …"

He trailed off, perhaps not able to bring himself to say aloud that his sister had only been lusting after his friend. Her face heated and she looked away in shame.

"Have you and Zuko had a chance to talk?" Suki asked.

Katara nodded and explained that there was probably going to be problems since Zuko was the Fire Lord. At least, that was what Iroh had warned.

"It's not just the Fire Nation," Sokka said grimly. "Dad and Gran-Gran aren't going to be happy, and that's nothing to how the village will react." He met her gaze, though his expression wasn't without sympathy. "It'll be better if you get married to him. You know that, right?"

Her voice came out hushed. "I know."

"But that isn't what you want, is it?"

She shook her head.

Sokka sighed and pulled her back into his arms. "Geez, sis, you really have got yourself into a mess."

Katara closed her eyes. She knew it to be true. She also knew that Zuko had been right. There would be consequences for their actions. The only question that remained was what.

 **oOo**

It was much later when Iroh approached her. He was gentle and offered her tea, never once showing a hint of judgement or disappointment. It helped to relax her, as he had no doubt intended. The man had always been crafty. Still, he also loved his nephew. That made her a little nervous.

"I'm sorry to bring you here so late," Iroh said, sitting opposite her on the plush cushion. "You must be tired."

She made a noncommittal sound.

"My nephew said that he spoke with you. There is unfortunately no time to be wasted, so I'm going to be blunt: what did you think?"

Katara warmed her hands on the porcelain cup. "I don't want to marry him."

Iroh sighed, as if he had expected as much. "I see."

"You can't force me to do it," she added, if a little defensively.

His mouth curved into a sad smile. "Katara, no one is going to force you to do anything. Zuko expressly forbid it, and I would not recommend such an action either. I just want you to understand what it is you're choosing."

She swallowed. "I know there will be consequences, but Zuko even said you were working on a way so that we wouldn't have to marry."

"It's not that simple," Iroh confided. "Just getting approval for the marriage was going to be difficult; I only said to my nephew that I would try to work out an alternate plan so he would stop looking so distressed."

"Then there's nothing?"

Iroh exhaled. "Even if there was, the situation has changed. Too many people overheard the conversation at the party. The officials are already demanding answers. Zuko is in a very precarious position, and I'm afraid that you are now a part of that."

"But I'm not a Fire Nation citizen!"

"Exactly."

Katara blinked.

"My dear," Iroh continued, "I do not wish to be crass, but the Fire Nation will not tolerate the Fire Lord's bastard to be raised by the Water Tribe. Tensions are still high between our nations. Peace has only just been won. Illegitimate or not, the child would still be the next in line to the throne. They will fear that you will raise the baby to supplant the father and take over."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Of course not," Iroh said gently. "I'm just letting you understand that bearing and raising the Fire Lord's child, even an illegitimate one, is not a simple matter. Such an act will weaken Zuko's rule, the ties between our nations, and place you and your child as a target for assassins."

Katara stared at her cup of tea. "Then what can I do?"

"You could give up your right to the child. It would not be the first time such a thing happened."

Her stomach churned at the thought. "Zuko mentioned that. He also said I wouldn't be allowed to acknowledge the baby as my own."

"That is true. You would never be able to say you are the child's mother. Still, that way Zuko would be able to satisfy the officials and he could make the child his heir without any problems—at least until a legitimate one is born."

Katara felt sick. She shook her head. "I can't accept that. This child is mine."

Even if her pregnancy was unplanned and unwanted, she couldn't imagine giving up her baby once it was born.

"Then would you have Zuko be the one to give up his right as a father?"

She swallowed. "You said it wouldn't work if the baby is raised in the Water Tribe."

"Not if Zuko acknowledges the son as his own. If he discards you and the baby completely—in short, cutting all ties—those who learnt of the truth might still not be happy, but at least there will be no complaints about heirs and legalities." His gaze met hers. "Of course, I doubt your nation would approve of such an action; in their eyes, he would have dishonoured and abandoned you. Perhaps they would even feel that he thought you were not good enough for him to marry because you are Water Tribe. Again, tensions would rise."

Katara tightened her grip on the cup.

"But," Iroh said in a much softer tone, "I do not like this solution because I know it would be a huge sacrifice on Zuko's part. My nephew loves the Fire Nation and he will do anything for his people." Iroh placed his cup of tea down and moved to bow in full kowtow in front of her. "I beg of you, Katara, do not ask this of him."

Her own cup of tea slipped from her hands and spilled over the floor. "W-what are you—please don't—"

Iroh kept his forehead pressed against the ground. "I have no right to ask this of you, but my nephew will not."

"General Iroh, please—" She tugged at his arm and pulled him up. "You shouldn't bow to me like that."

Iroh held her gaze steadily. "I will do anything for my nephew, Katara. He has suffered enough. I do not wish to see him hurt anymore."

Something twisted in Katara's stomach, yet there was a hollowness as well: an empty thing eating away at her insides. She didn't know how to respond. The silence dragged out between them like a weight pushing down on her shoulders.

"Are you sure you could not agree to marry him?" Iroh asked after a moment. "It might seem distasteful now, but it really would be the best option for both of you. You would have the protection of a husband, there would be no question of illegitimacy, and—"

Katara held up her hand for him to stop. "Please don't. I know what you're saying is true, I just—"

Was scared? Didn't like the feelings that arose within her when she was with Zuko? Had believed that she would marry for love?

Iroh sighed. "I know you probably have a lot on your mind; truly, I am sorry that it has come to this. You are both young; you do not deserve to carry this burden. However, a statement still needs to be given. The longer we prolong informing the officials of the true state of affairs, the more precarious things will get for you and Zuko."

Katara said nothing. She felt too torn and distressed to formulate words.

Iroh patted her arm. "For what it's worth, Zuko has agreed to marry you if you are willing."

Her gaze darted to Iroh's in surprise. "He has?"

Iroh's mouth curved into another sad smile. "My nephew is a man of honour. I understand your relationship with him is, uh, difficult, but he is willing to do whatever is necessary to make this work."

Katara didn't know why that made her angry. Maybe because Zuko could be so self-sacrificing while she was still acting like a selfish brat. At least, that was how he made her feel. He was like a mirror, always showing her the things she did not want to see about herself. That was why she hated him. That was why she couldn't stand being close to him.

But now she had to make a decision. Could she turn her back on him and both their nations? Could she threaten the peace just to satisfy her own desires?

"Why didn't you just approach my father?" Katara asked in a small voice. "He and the village probably would have ordered me to marry Zuko to restore my honour."

"I told you, didn't I?" Iroh said gently. "Zuko did not want anyone to force your hand—not even your family. He wanted it to be your choice and your choice alone; he said he would ensure your wish was respected, whatever it may be."

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't believe that he was willing to do so much for her after the way she had treated him. It hurt. It made the guilt and frustration swell within her—especially when she remembered his embittered confession:

" _You think this is any easier for me? You think I really want to make peace with you after you used me and humiliated me?"  
_

Katara swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. "Okay," she said.

Iroh raised his eyebrows. "Okay?"

She sucked in a breath. "I'll do it. I'll marry him."

It wasn't what she wanted—far from it—but Katara was not an unreasonable person. Not at heart. She knew that there was no love between her and Zuko, but there was one thing that they did have in common: a deep sense of responsibility. If this was the only way to make things work—to maintain the peace and ease the tension between their nations—then she would do it.

She would join him in this sacrifice.

* * *

If you didn't catch the reference, a "fireblast wedding" is the equivalent of a shotgun wedding.

Also, if you're thinking this story is moving pretty quickly, well, you'd be right. I'm not planning it to be super long. Got enough of that going on with _The Undying Fire_. ;)


	3. A Truce

**A Truce**

The engagement was made official the next day. At least for Katara and Zuko. The public announcement would not happen until the agreement was signed by her father. Not that anyone believed there would be any problems from that quarter. The Southern Water Tribe was not quite as strict as the North about gender roles, but it still had many "ideas"about women. Being pregnant and unmarried was one of the biggest crimes Katara could have committed. It would have brought shame on herself and her family.

It would have made life very difficult for everyone.

So, while an emissary had still been sent via airship to the Southern Water Tribe to begin formal negotiations, Katara knew that her father would not reject the engagement. Hakoda would be relieved. He would be glad not to have to carry the burden of her shame. Katara's only consolation was that Zuko had given her the choice to accept or refuse the marriage first. He had not treated her like some mess he had to clean up; he had not gone straight to her father, as if her opinion didn't matter when compared to a man's or to the scorn of the world. She hated to admit it, but Zuko had respected her far more than she had ever respected him.

Katara frowned and leaned against the balcony. The Caldera stretched out before her: lush and liked a tiered pattern of red-tiled roofs. A gentle, and very welcome, breeze ruffled her hair. Summer had come to an end, but it was still humid and hot. She supposed she would have to get used to that.

"There you are."

Katara turned to see Suki walk out onto the balcony. The girl was holding a tray of sliced fruit and other delicacies.

"I bring tasty offerings," Suki said, raising the tray with a grin.

"I'm not hun—"

"Uh-uh." Suki waggled her finger. "You're eating for two now, and I know you didn't eat much at lunch. You need to take care of your body." She shoved a mango at the waterbender. "That includes eating."

Katara couldn't argue with that. She sat with Suki on the balcony, tray between them, and nibbled on the slice of mango. The silence was not uncomfortable. Suki had been supportive from the beginning; it helped that the girl was like the big sister Katara had never had. They were friends and close in age, but Suki was also mature, confident, and experienced in a way that Katara was not. Katara had never turned down Suki's advice; that said a lot.

"How are things with Aang?" Suki asked after a moment.

Katara repressed a wince. "He hasn't spoken to me since the party."

Suki nodded, as if she had expected as much. Aang had taken the news of the pregnancy hard. It had been obvious to everyone that he'd considered himself in love with the waterbender. Katara had thought his crush kind of sweet once; that was before she'd got confused when he'd started forcing his feelings on her in demanding words and kisses; before she'd ended up all tangled with Zuko, driven by urges she had never known could exist in her body. Then she'd just felt too ashamed to do anything but keep Aang at a distance.

Aang had deserved better. He still did.

"I hate that I hurt him," Katara admitted. "I never meant for this to happen."

"It's not your fault Aang thinks he's in love with you," Suki said in a reasonable voice. "He'll get over it."

Katara curled her fingers into her tunic. She knew it was true that in time Aang would move on and find love with someone else, but she still couldn't help feeling guilty. Aang was family. She had said that they would always be together, but now it was like there was a thick wall between them. She didn't know what to do.

"Look," Suki said, as if reading her thoughts, "there's no point beating yourself up about it. It's not like you ever agreed to anything with Aang. What's done is done. Besides, don't you think you're focussing on the wrong person?"

Katara's brow creased. "What do you mean?"

"Worrying about Aang is all well and good, but you're the one who's pregnant. I heard you're planning on marrying Zuko now as well. Does that mean the two of you smoothed things over?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly."

Iroh was the one who had passed on her acceptance to the engagement. The older firebender had tried to get the teens to meet for a proper discussion, of course, but it hadn't worked out. Most of that was Katara's fault: after her big speech about not wanting to marry Zuko, she felt too awkward to approach him now. It would be too humiliating. Plus, Zuko had been busy with what Sokka called "Fire Lordy things". There had been no time for them to meet or discuss their engagement. Or at least that was what she had kept telling herself.

Suki raised her eyebrow. "Katara, he's going to be your husband soon. You can't just avoid him."

"I'm not avoiding him!"

Suki's tone turned sceptical. "Really?"

"Yes, really. He's been busy and I—" Katara broke off at the sound of Suki's laughter. "What's so funny?"

"I don't even need Toph's feet sense to know you're lying."

Katara bit her lip and looked the other way. Suki's giggles died down. Perhaps she realised that the waterbender was too distressed to be amused.

"Hey," Suki said, leaning forward. "You're not having second thoughts, are you? About the marriage, I mean."

Katara shook her head.

"Then what's the problem?"

The waterbender said nothing. She didn't know how to explain her thoughts. All she knew was that being around Zuko was confusing and frustrating and—

"Katara."

And he was right behind her.

She twisted around to face him. He was still wearing his Fire Lord regalia: layers of black and red cloth with gold trimming, along with the five-pronged headpiece fitted into his topknot like a crown. The outfit made him look broader and much less approachable than when he'd travelled with them as just Zuko. She noticed that he looked very tired.

Suki got to her feet. "I'll give you two some privacy."

Katara almost asked the girl to stay, but she resisted the urge. She didn't want to make it obvious to Zuko just how much being alone with him disturbed her equanimity. So she bit her tongue and watched the boy who would eventually become her husband nod to Suki in greeting before he stepped aside to let the auburn-haired girl pass; watched him settle down in Suki's unoccupied spot, as if the two of them had always planned to have afternoon tea together. Then Katara turned her gaze downward, because there was something oddly intimate about sitting with him like this and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

"So," he said when she showed no signs of breaking the silence. "We're engaged now."

Katara almost face-palmed. That was one of the most awkward openings to a conversation she had heard, and this was from the guy who'd decided to begin his formal apology and request to join their group with "Hello, Zuko here." It didn't quite break the tension, but it did make her relent enough to at least acknowledge him. Not that her expression was impressed.

"That's all you can say?" she demanded. "We're engaged now?"

Zuko's unscarred cheek dusted with pink. "Well, it's true."

Katara rolled her eyes. "And there goes the winner for the understatement of the year."

"What about you?" he retorted. "You were the one who wanted to get engaged yet you've been ignoring me ever since." His voice took on an edge of frustration. "I don't understand you. What was the point of agreeing to marry me if you're just going to treat me like I'm diseased?"

"I haven't been igno—"

"Then what do you call this?" He gestured between them. "I had to hunt you down here just so I could talk to you. Uncle says you've been avoiding him as well, and—"

Katara made a frustrated sound. "Alright, fine! I didn't want to talk to you! I didn't want to look at you at all! Happy?"

Something flickered in Zuko's eyes that might have been hurt. He averted his face, and his hand curled into a fist on his lap. "I see."

Katara swallowed. Her words had come out much harsher than she had intended. Even when she was aware that she was being unreasonable and should be apologising to him, all that came out of her were waspish comments and ugly things. She couldn't seem to stop it. The anger bubbled in her so quickly when he was around, pulsing through her veins, and making her blood pound in her ears. It was hard to be logical. Hard to be in control. He just had that effect on her.

She bit her lip and lowered her gaze to her hands. "What did you even want to talk to me about?"

"Forget it," he muttered.

There was a rustle of cloth. She glanced up to see him get to his feet. His face was still turned away from her, but there was something rigid about the way he carried himself—something a little too severe about the curve of his jaw and what she could see of his profile. It was obvious she had upset him. Her stomach twisted and she found herself gripping his hand before she even realised what she was doing. Zuko's eyes snapped to hers in an instant. He looked a bit startled, as if he had not expected her to initiate the contact, let alone try to stop him from leaving. Katara was just as surprised by her action.

"What?" he asked.

She moistened her lips. Her mouth was dry and every inch of her was hyperaware of where they touched: of the way their palms brushed against each other; of the way the pads of her fingers pressed into his skin. Warm. Slightly calloused. The rush of sensation frightened her. She released her grip and let her hand drop back to her side.

"Nothing," she said, looking the other way. "I just—isn't it enough that I accepted to marry you?"

Zuko's voice was cold. "I'd rather you hadn't if you're just going to act this way."

She sucked in a breath. "I _am_ trying to make this work."

"Are you?"

Her mouth twisted. She raised her head to meet his gaze: golden irises that had once burned with an intensity that had drawn her in like a moth to a flame. Now that fire was barely a flicker. He looked tired and older than his sixteen years: all shadows and lines. He looked fed up with everything, including her.

"You're not a victim, Katara," Zuko said with a bluntness that hit her like a blow to the stomach, "so stop acting like one. It's annoying, and I'm sick of it."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, but—"

"If you want to make yourself miserable by marrying someone you can't even stand the sight of, then do it with someone else." He turned his back on her. "It's obvious this isn't going to work. I'm calling the engagement off."

That had Katara on her feet. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands. "Wait!"

He stilled. She didn't let go. Her heart felt like it was stuck in her throat, almost choking.

"I—" she swallowed, tried again. "I know I've been difficult."

He snorted. Unfortunately, that tiny sound of derision just set her hackles back up again. She let go of his wrist and moved to stand in front of him, pointing her finger at his face.

"You know what, you're just a big hypocrite!" she declared. "You tell me this isn't going to work because I don't want to be around you, but it's not like you're any different! Didn't you tell me that you hated this just as much? Weren't you the one who said you didn't really want to make peace with me?"

A faint and rather bitter smile curved his lips. "I wouldn't be human if I said it didn't bother me that you basically used me for sex and then went back to despising me straight after."

Her cheeks burned. "I—that isn't—"

"But that doesn't mean I hate you." His voice softened and some of the hard lines eased on his face. "I've never hated you, Katara. All I wanted was your forgiveness." He gave an odd sort of shrug. More of a twitch. "What happened between us that night was a mistake; I'll admit that. You frustrate me and I don't understand you; I definitely wish you weren't pregnant with my child, but this is where our choices have led us."

She frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't want to sit here counting hurts and grievances. When you agreed to get engaged, I thought it meant you were willing to try and make the best of this situation with me, but it's obvious now that was never the case. All you care about is holding grudges." He shook his head. "I'm not interested in that kind of toxic marriage. I don't care if breaking off the engagement means things will get messy again; I'd rather deal with that than put up with your unpleasantness every day just because we're husband and wife."

Katara flushed. "You can't break off the engagement! You know getting married is what's best for both our nations!"

"I do," he agreed, "but I'm also not a masochist. My own father and sister tried to kill me; I'm now the ruler of a nation where most of the people hate me or at least distrust me, even if they won't say it to my face. Frankly, I don't need to add my wife to the mix. So, no, I don't want to marry you. Not when you're acting like I'm the scum of the earth and you're somehow doing me a favour just when you give me the time of day."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not quite managing to formulate sound. She wasn't sure what she would have said anyway. Frustration and shame worked their way through her in equal measure. Damn him for always acting like her mirror. She wanted to defend herself and get angry—to prove that she was justified and not as awful as he painted—but the barbs of truth attached to his words stuck into her like thorns. She couldn't deny that she had behaved pretty deplorably towards him.

"You're really going to call off the engagement?" she asked in a low voice.

"It's not ideal," he admitted, "but then you're not giving me much of a choice. At least this way we both have a chance of being happy."

Her mouth went dry again. "And if I said I'd do better?"

"You're willing to do that?"

He sounded genuinely curious.

Katara bit her lip. "I didn't choose to get engaged to you because I wanted to punish you. I did it because I knew it was the right thing."

The real problem was that she had not considered his feelings. Not really. She had thought herself so noble, so self-sacrificing in agreeing to marry him. Never mind that she had continued to deny him the attention and respect he deserved. Never mind that she had behaved like her comfort was the only thing that mattered. It was not easy to admit—she had always been too proud—but then he never did make things easy for her.

Zuko folded his arms across his chest. "If you really mean that, then I won't call off the engagement."

She sighed in relief.

"But—"

Her eyes flickered back to his.

"You have to _really_ mean it," he insisted. "I know this isn't what either of us planned for, but that doesn't mean we have to keep making each other miserable." He did the odd twitch-shrug again. "All I'm asking is that that you give this marriage a chance."

She shifted on her feet, looking a bit sulky and defiant. "I can't make myself love you."

"I'm not asking you to," Zuko responded, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I love you either. I just meant as friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "I didn't realise that would be such a hard concept for you to grasp."

She pursed her lips. The snark she could have done without, but what he said did make sense if they actually wanted to have any kind of happy future together. The problem was her. Being close to him still put her on edge too much. She wasn't sure if she could be his friend. Not in the way he wanted.

"I—" She lowered her gaze. "I'll try."

Zuko let out a breath. "That's all I'm asking."

He held out his hand to seal the deal. Katara hesitated only a moment before gripping his hand. The contact was like a shock to her core. She was conscious of every brush of skin, of the way her pulse quickened as if ignited by his touch. She really hoped he could not feel it.

Embarrassed and annoyed, she quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back to put some distance between them. "Well, um, I guess that's that."

Zuko's brow scrunched a little. "Yeah," he said slowly.

There was an awkward moment where neither of them quite looked at each other. Her pulse still hadn't slowed. It was frustrating. It reminded her of how he had run those same calloused hands along her bare skin; how he'd figured out how to pluck all the right strings on her body to make her writhe and twist in helpless pleasure until she was seeing stars and all she could do was breathe his name over and over. She clenched her hand into a fist. Zuko looked just as uncomfortable; he mumbled that he should probably get to his meeting with the finance minister and took his leave.

Katara exhaled once he was gone and slowly uncurled her hand—the same he had held. Her skin still tingled from the contact. It bothered her that his presence, his mere touch, could have so much sway over her. He was just one boy. Just one stupid boy who had betrayed her and—

But no. She had promised to be better. She had promised to try harder for both their sakes.

She could not hide behind her anger anymore.

Katara sighed and stared at her hand. "Friends, huh?"

What a joke. There was no way they could ever be friends. She didn't know who he thought he was kidding. There was too much history between them. Too much of everything. Just being near him made her feel like a spring coiled too tight—far, far too tight. It was impossible and frustrating. Still, a promise was a promise. She would go along with his request to cooperate. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

Their lives were going to be forever intertwined now: through marriage and through the child growing in her womb. In the end, all they could do was try to make the best of it.

* * *

I intended this chapter to be longer and actually feature Aang, but I've injured my hand (joy) and so decided to split it for the sake of giving you an update now. Plus, I just felt that this actually wasn't a bad place to end the chapter.

Needless to say, next chapter will see Aang and maybe some Mai.


	4. The Wound that Only Time Heals

**The Wound that Only Time Heals**

Katara kept her promise to make an effort. She joined the others for dinner—a first since the pregnancy announcement—and she was even polite to Zuko. Not a word that could be construed as antagonistic passed her lips, though it was true she was quieter than normal. Part of that was because she had learnt that Aang had also been skipping the group meals. It sounded like he had been doing his best to avoid meeting her. That hurt. She was also conscious of the tension that lingered between her and Zuko. Just because she was trying to be better didn't change the fact that there was a lot of things that had been left unresolved. It was a relief when she finished her meal and could excuse herself from the table.

Suki met up with her afterwards in her bedroom and praised her for joining them for dinner and making small-talk with Zuko. The auburn-haired girl seemed to think that Katara had come to the decision herself rather than being guilt-tripped into it. She said it showed maturity on Katara's part and that seeing the two get along had been a huge relief. Apparently, Suki, Sokka and Toph had all been worried that Katara would be too stubborn to give Zuko a chance. They had feared that the marriage would end up being a very unhappy one unless something changed.

"But now I know we can relax," Suki said, smiling and leaning back on her palms. "I'm glad you were able to work things out with him."

Katara gripped the fabric of her tunic, bunching it tight into clenched fists. She had an odd urge to laugh—Suki had got so much wrong—but she also didn't have the heart to correct her friend. Having to explain just why she was making an effort would only make her feel worse about herself. She didn't want Suki to know how horribly she'd been behaving.

How ugly her words could be to those she did not consider her friends.

" _Friends?"_

" _Yeah. I didn't realise that would be such a hard concept for you to grasp."_

Her lips twisted. Suki must have noticed the shift in her expression, as she sat up and asked if something was wrong.

"No," Katara said, forcing a smile. "It's nothing. I just remembered something. Anyway, you and Sokka don't need to worry. Zuko and I are fine now."

Suki's grin returned. She was obviously pleased with the response. It made the knot of guilt tighten inside Katara. Not that she was willing to act upon those little stabs. She'd rather lie and keep pretending than see Suki's disappointment.

The two girls talked for a while longer, but after the third yawn in a row, Suki decided to call it quits and get some sleep. Katara didn't want to admit that she was glad. It was draining trying to keep up her act.

"I'll see you in the morning," Suki mumbled, heading for the door.

"Yeah, see you."

Katara watched the door close and then collapsed on her bed with a sigh. Her mind was still buzzing with everything that had happened. Being alone just made it worse. Now she regretted letting Suki leave. Her thoughts were like a spinning top that wouldn't stop, revolving around the problems she faced with Zuko, the problems with Aang—just the mess that was her life in general. No amount of acceptance seemed to ease the frustration she felt for her situation.

"Enough," she told herself.

She swung her feet off the bed and went about her nightly ritual of washing her face and getting changed into her sleepwear. Being productive helped, but her thoughts still refused to calm. That was when she noticed the moon. The celestial light was bright that night, slipping through the curtains to tease her with a silvery glow. Katara found herself stepping onto the balcony and gazing up at the moon.

"Do you think I'm a bad person, Yue?" she asked.

There was no response. Not that Katara really expected one. Yue had become the Moon Spirit; she didn't walk this earth anymore. Still, Katara was sure that Yue would have been able to handle her situation with far more grace. Yue had been always been so dutiful and sweet; Katara was … trying.

" _I've never hated you, Katara. All I wanted was your forgiveness."_

" _I don't want to sit here counting hurts and grievances."_

" _All I'm asking is that that you give this marriage a chance."_

Katara let out a breath and returned to her room. She snuffed out the candles before clambering into the big bed. The space all around her was cold. It was a reminder of how alone she felt even when surrounded by people: unable to express her true feelings for fear of being judged; unable to repair the damage she'd caused to her friendship with Aang.

Everything was such a mess.

She huddled into a ball and willed herself to stop thinking. That was easier said than done. In the end, she slept fitfully and woke the next morning with a headache. Rather than suffer through breakfast at the main table with everyone, she got one of the servants to bring her a light meal. Sokka came to see her at one point, but she sent him away soon after, claiming that she wasn't feeling well and didn't want to be bothered. Of course, the moment he was gone she wished for his company. That frustrated her too.

"What's wrong with me?" Katara muttered, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

She wanted to be with people yet could never bring herself to stay in their company. She felt guilty for the way she had been treating Zuko yet the thought of apologising made her blanch. The only way she'd managed to stop flaring up at him every second moment was by biting her tongue and putting on an act. Of course, like a vicious cycle, that just made her feel worse.

And then there was Aang.

Katara bit her lip. It felt like weeks since she had last spoken to the younger boy. Suki had told her not to fret, but Katara couldn't help it. Aang had been at her side from the moment she had broken him out of the iceberg. She had watched him grow, watched him suffer, and watched him ultimately change the world. Now she was stuck watching him slip away, as if all the months they had spent together meant nothing. It hurt. It hurt so damn much.

Something hot prickled in her eyes. She wiped at her face in anger, refusing to cry. There was no point. Maybe she even wanted to deny herself the luxury, almost like a punishment. Crying felt too much like the act of a victim, and Zuko had been right about one thing: she was not the victim here. She was the reason all this mess had started.

If only she had not kissed Zuko. If only she had not succumbed to the simmering attraction between them.

Katara squeezed her eyes shut, as if doing so could somehow wipe the memories from her mind. It didn't work. Instead, she tossed and turned, fretting and arguing with herself, and getting more restless by the moment. Eventually, she decided to go for a walk. She needed to escape this room. Staying here would only drive her insane. So she tugged on her boots and made her way down to the grounds. Being in the palace—even just the villa where she and the others were staying—tended to make her feel a bit claustrophobic. The rooms were all large and opulent, but somehow it was these same traits that crushed her. She was from a tiny village in the Southern Water Tribe. The palace was too different. Knowing that this place would soon be her home didn't help.

Still, the gardens that connected the different villas and main palace were nice. Even Katara could admit that. Lush greenery and flowers helped to break the barrenness of the Caldera. There were also massive ginkgo and cherry trees to provide shade from the sun, though her favourite thing was the ponds. The water soothed her in a way being close to her element only could, helping to ease the tempest that tossed and turned inside her. Katara especially liked the smaller pond attached to the villa where she and the others were staying. It was home to a family of turtleducks and there was just something so nice and tranquil about the garden.

Katara settled down next to the pond, smiling at the fluffy-headed ducklings that were already coming to greet her. They were so awkward with their shelled backs and webbed feet. She couldn't look at them and not smile.

"Sorry," she murmured, showing her empty palms. "I don't have any food for you."

The ducklings turned their beaks up at this rudeness and drifted back to their mother. Katara almost regretted not asking a servant for some bread before she had come down. She sighed and leaned back on her palms, letting the gentle breeze brush her face and play with her hair. A part of her was still on edge, but some of the tightness in her chest had at least lessened. Coming to this pond had been the right decision.

"I'm already trying my best, Uncle."

Katara straightened as if zapped. That was Zuko's voice. Before she'd even considered what she was doing, she scrambled to her feet and ducked behind the tree. Her heart pounded a little as she pressed her back to the trunk.

"This is a precarious time for you, Fire Lord Zuko," Iroh observed, even as the sound of their footsteps got closer.

"Don't call me that," Zuko muttered.

"It's your title."

"Yeah, and I'm already sick of it."

Iroh chuckled, though he sobered a moment later. "I'm sorry, Nephew. I know this has been hard for you. You have not inherited an easy rule."

There was a rustling sound. Katara's heart quickened as she realised Zuko was sitting directly on the other side of the tree. So, so close.

"Everyone is watching my every move," Zuko said after a moment. "I feel like they're just waiting to see me fail."

"You won't fail," Iroh assured him. "That said, I do think you need to repair your relationship with Aang. You will need the Avatar on your side."

Zuko made a frustrated sound. "I'm _trying._ Aang won't talk to me. The one time I managed to get him alone, he shouted at me and flew off on his glider." A pause. "I think he was in love with her."

"Katara?"

Silence. Maybe Zuko had shrugged.

"That could be a problem," Iroh admitted. "Aang is very young."

"That's just a euphemism for acting like a brat," Zuko muttered, but then he sighed. "Not that I can blame him. I'd be just as angry if some guy I thought was my friend got the girl I loved pregnant."

"This is why you should have listened to me when I tried to give you the talk about safe sex. Now if—"

"Ugh, don't even start, Uncle!" Katara could almost hear the blush in Zuko's voice. "Besides, with Katara and I it just—it just happened. Neither of us were thinking straight, and—"

"And?" Iroh prompted.

Zuko groaned and she thought he might have thumped his head against the tree trunk. "And we are not having this conversation," he said firmly.

Iroh chuckled again but made no further comment about the matter, for which Katara could only be glad. Her cheeks were rosy just listening to the conversation. The two royals fell silent. It was probably a comfortable silence for them, but for Katara it was nerve wracking. Since she had chosen to hide herself, she now felt like she couldn't come out from behind the tree. This was a problem since neither Zuko nor Iroh made any sign of moving. They just sat there together, even as a sense of stillness settled over the garden, broken only by the faint splashes coming from the pond.

"The turtleducks have not forgotten you, I see," Iroh said after a moment. "I remember you used to sit here with your mother and feed them."

"I doubt these are the same turtleducks," Zuko said dryly. "It has been a long time since those days."

"Still, they seem to like you."

Katara risked a peek and saw one of the ducklings trying to get onto Zuko's lap. A few others waddled around near him. The image made her feel strange, as if she'd just viewed the world upside down and couldn't put her finger on what was wrong. Even his expression was unexpected: soft, almost wistful. It was a look she had never seen on his face; it also didn't fit with the sarcastic words he had spoken.

Zuko let out a breath. "If only people could be like these turtleducks. Everything would be simpler then."

"I'm sure things will work out." Iroh placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I don't deny you've got your work cut out for you, but I know that you can do this." A grin curved his lips. "And of course I'll be here to give you advice and tea whenever you need it."

"I'm never going to escape your damned tea, am I?"

Iroh widened his eyes in feigned surprise. "Ah, but Master Toph told me that you made tea for them every day while you were travelling with them." He poked the blushing teen in the ribs. "You can't hide it anymore, Nephew. It's obvious you have been converted to the greatness of tea."

Zuko's blush darkened. "I only did that out of habit." He ducked his head, struggling with his next words. "And because I, uh, might have missed you. You're always drinking the stuff, and—"

The teen let out a yelp as he was pulled into a hug. Katara bit back a smile, even as Zuko complained that Iroh was going to squash the turtleduck. Then she realised that she was almost smiling and she scowled.

"Oh, sorry." Iroh pulled back.

Zuko scooped up the duckling from his lap and placed it gently into the pond with its siblings. Katara glanced at Iroh and felt a jolt go through her; he was staring straight at her. The old man raised his eyebrows. She blushed and ducked back behind the tree, heart pounding. Damn it, she had been seen. Would he rat her out? Iroh was often unpredictable.

"Well," Zuko said, "I should probably get back. The sooner we figure out which officials can be trusted and how far the corruption has spread, the better."

Iroh made a thoughtful sound. "True, but you need to give yourself a break as well. How about you stay here for a while? Relax. Take a stroll around the garden. Let me deal with the officials for now."

"I can't leave it to you," Zuko protested. "My father created this mess and I, as Fire Lord, should be the one to clean it up."

"That man was also my younger brother," Iroh pointed out. "Besides, a Fire Lord is not expected to do everything himself. That's what you have advisors and helpers for. You'll work yourself to the bone unless you start delegating more."

Zuko tried to argue, but his uncle refused to be budged. He shut down all of Zuko's reasoning, accused the teen of looking half-dead on his feet, and clinched the matter by saying an exhausted Fire Lord was going to be of no use to anyone. It would be better if Zuko took a break—a _real_ break. The younger firebender must have been more tired than she had realised, because he just sighed and accepted defeat.

"Then I'll be taking my leave," Iroh said, getting to his feet.

Katara gritted her teeth as she listened to his footsteps fade. That sneaky old man. He'd done this on purpose. Now she was trapped behind the tree with only Zuko on the other side. Zuko seemed to have taken his uncle's advice to heart as well, because he didn't make any effort to move from his spot. How frustrating.

She slid to the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest. Zuko let out a deep breath. The sound made her flinch. It was a reminder of how close he was. The cherry tree, while tall, did not have the biggest trunk. Her body was hyperaware of the distance that separated her from him; it painted images in her mind of how he might be sitting, what expressions he might be wearing. The urge to look was like an itch that needed to be scratched.

Katara closed her eyes. There was a rustling of fabric. She heard him mutter something about stupid robes, which might have made her smile if she wasn't feeling so odd and out of sorts. He always seemed to have this effect on her. It was like being around him stirred up too many emotions and so she was just left feeling irritable. Katara knew it was unfair, but she couldn't help it. Somehow, the restlessness was even worse after listening to the conversation between him and his uncle.

Zuko really had been having a hard time. She'd seen glimpses of it, of course. The dark circles under his eyes; the way he seemed to have aged another ten years. He'd been dealing with so much as Fire Lord. She was also aware that she had been only adding to his burden.

Her and Aang, it seemed.

Katara pressed her face to her knees and tried not to think about the matter anymore. It just made her feel worse. Silence settled back over the garden, but there was no peace. Not when she was this close to the source of her inner turmoil. All she could do was sit there and wait, just hoping that he would leave. Time passed like trickling molasses; she counted the seconds as if each was an eternity. So, so slow. It was then that a shadow passed over her, blocking the sun that seeped through the cover of the branches.

"What are you doing?"

The sound of Zuko's voice made her sit up with a start. He stood frowning down at her, as if he wasn't sure what to make of finding her huddled against the tree trunk. Heat spread on her cheeks. She wondered if he had figured out that she had been hiding from him.

Zuko sighed when she remained silent and held out his hand to her. It took her a moment to realise that he was offering to help her up. Katara cast him a suspicious glance under her lashes, but his expression was blank. She twisted her lips. It would be too obvious if she refused him—she'd just look petty again—so she clasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet. The contact was over in a second; he was a lot stronger than his slim build portrayed, and he let go the moment she found her balance. Still, Katara found her palm tingling where they had touched.

His hand was so much bigger than hers. Not as big as her father's, but the way he could surround her hand so easily with his own still made her feel odd. It was a reminder that he was a boy on the cusp of manhood. It was a reminder that she was to become his wife; that these same hands which had touched her in her most intimate places—the first she had ever let do so—would also be the only hands she would know.

Katara didn't know what to think about that.

She frowned and turned away from him. "I'm heading back."

Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears. Zuko's fingers encircled her wrist, stopping her from leaving. She hated that her pulse quickened for him.

"I haven't forgotten," she said before he could get a word in. "I _am_ trying to make things work for us. Even you have to admit I'm doing better."

Zuko's grip tightened a fraction. "That isn't what I was going to say."

Her gaze drifted to his face, meeting his eyes for the first time since she'd found him standing over her. She was surprised to find concern.

"What?" she questioned.

He released her wrist and lowered his gaze, "I heard you weren't feeling well. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Something stirred in her chest—an elusive warmth that slipped away as fast as it had come.

"I'm fine," she said slowly. "I just had a headache this morning."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause. Neither looked at each other. Katara hesitated a moment before deciding being around him was too much. The longer she stood there, the more restless she felt. It was a scream building within her to do something. She knew better than to listen to her impulses when near him.

Katara cleared her throat. "Then I'll be going."

Zuko didn't stop her this time. She cast him a sidelong look as she walked past him, meeting his eyes briefly; however, he said nothing and she was all too happy to avert her gaze and keep walking. In fact, she was just glad to escape his presence. He really did stir too many emotions within her.

Still, there was one thing she could do for him. It was a thought that had been slowly forming while she had listened to his conversation with his uncle. A thought she had not even wanted to acknowledge until speaking to him herself. Katara was not good at accepting the bad things about herself, but it was too jarring, too much like a stab to her conscience that he could show concern for her when he himself was so worn down. She could not justify choosing to turn a blind eye. After all, she was the only one who could fix this problem.

Katara let out a breath. It was time to talk to Aang.

 **oOo**

The sun was setting when she found the younger boy. He had secluded himself in the big stable with Appa, huddled right up against the bison like a small, unhappy child. The sight broke her heart. She wanted nothing more than to rush over and pull him into her arms, but she knew that she couldn't. That would only hurt him more.

"Aang," she said softly, taking a few more steps into the stable. "We need to talk."

He flinched at the sight of her, but at least he didn't run. That was an improvement. She knelt opposite him and met his gaze, though her eyes drifted to the side almost immediately. He looked so pained. So betrayed. A lump formed in her throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, almost choking on the words. This was so much more difficult than she had anticipated. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I—"

Aang made a jerky motion. "Don't," he said in a strained voice. "Don't just come here and say you're sorry."

She closed her eyes. "Then what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me _why_."

The lump in her throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. Yes, there was the question she had dreaded. It was also the one she could not answer.

"How could you do this?" Aang demanded when she remained silent. "How could you have—have _sex_ with him? I thought you hated him! I even—" he broke off, struggling for a moment "—I even tried to help ease things between you two because I wanted you to be friends, and you just—you just—"

Katara hung her head, offering no defence. There was nothing she could say that would make him feel better.

Aang let out a breath. "Why?" His voice was so small. "Why did you do it? Why him?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I wish I knew. But that doesn't help, does it?"

His voice trembled. "I loved you."

The words were like a punch to her heart. She sucked in a breath.

"I really loved you, Katara," he continued. "I still do love you. We kissed before the eclipse and I thought—I thought that meant something. I thought you felt the same. So why—" His voice grew hoarse; she could tell that he was crying. "Why did you choose _Zuko_?"

Something prickled in the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't just say you're sorry!"

Katara winced. A part of her wanted to give up then. It was painful seeing him like this, painful listening to him. She knew that nothing she said would make him feel less betrayed. The guilt was a gnawing ache inside her. Still, she had come this far. She had to make things right for all their sakes.

"Aang," she said, reaching out to take his hands in hers. They were smaller than her own. "You need to let me go."

His eyes widened. "What are you—why are you saying—"

"I can't give you what you want," she explained. "I'm pregnant with Zuko's child. I'm going to become his wife." She tightened her grip on his hands. "And—and I don't think I ever would have been able to give you what you really wanted."

He shook his head, even as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. Katara ached to wipe away his tears. She would have done anything to stop him from hurting, but it was too late. The damage had already been done. In truth, just having those urges to pull him into her arms confirmed to her that she had not loved him. Not in the way he had hoped anyway. It was a shame she had not realised sooner.

Katara let go of his hands. "I'm sorry, Aang" she mumbled, lowering her gaze. "You deserve better."

"But I wanted you." He sucked in a shuddering breath. "You were my forever girl."

She closed her eyes. The confession was so small. So vulnerable. It broke her heart and made her feel like a monster. Aang really was an innocent. She hated that she had soiled his world.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

Aang hiccupped on a sob. "Stop saying you're sorry."

Katara bit her lip to hold back her tears. He sounded so pitiful. She had to leave before she did something stupid. It wouldn't be fair to confuse him. So she did not embrace him as she wanted; instead, she got to her feet and told him that what he felt would pass. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a week or a month from now, but that one day he wouldn't hurt like this anymore. When that happened, she hoped they could be friends again.

"You're still my family, Aang," she said softly. "Don't ever forget that."

He turned his face away from her, but not before she saw the way his lips quivered. Katara didn't know if it was possible for her heart to break any more, but somehow it did. She swallowed and walked past him, trying her best to keep it together. Only when she was far from the stable did she allow herself to break down. She cried bitterly, regretfully, grieving for the boy she had hurt so much. For the friendship she had ruined with that one, regrettable kiss that had caused everything to spiral out of control.

Only time would heal this wound. Perhaps that was the hardest part to accept. Her words couldn't help him. Even her bending was useless. All she could do was wait. Katara wondered if it was selfish for her to hope that it would not take as long as she feared.

* * *

Poor Aang. :(

I didn't get a chance to edit this chapter much, so point out any typos if you spot them. As usual, reviews are also very welcome!


	5. Conversations

Sorry for the wait! Replies to the reviews I have missed are coming!

* * *

 **Conversations**

Zuko frowned at the stacks of parchment in front of him. Lists of names, laws, towns, colonies—all problems that needed to be addressed. Despite all of that, his mind continued to dwell on the girl who was to become his wife. He flexed his right hand, knowing it was not possible yet still feeling the imprint of her touch. She had been less antagonistic today, but in a way that was more dangerous. He'd almost slipped up. Almost let show how much she still influenced him with her proximity. Put simply, she made him too aware: of his pulse, his heartbeat, his every breath. She made him remember things he did not want to remember and desires he wished he could subdue.

Why?

He was so tired of asking himself that question. Then again, maybe he did know the answer. Maybe it was because she hadn't always been this way: rude, withdrawn, bitter. Maybe it was because he still remembered how she had approached him in the catacombs, daring to get closer—daring to touch him even knowing who he was and what he had done. Maybe it was simply because, on that day, she had implied through her words that she thought he was important; important enough to use her special water on and try healing his scar, even if she wasn't sure if it would work.

Important to her.

It was true that he didn't know why Katara had kissed him when he had later confronted her at the Western Air Temple, but he did know why he had kissed her in return. She had never left his mind. Her touch, her kindness; the feelings she had stirred within him in the catacombs had been too powerful to simply fade—not even when he had joined the group and had been confronted with her threats and constant barbs. It had been a mistake to side with Azula in Ba Sing Se; it had been a mistake he had regretted every day as he struggled and failed to earn Katara's forgiveness. But then she had kissed him, and he had thought—he had thought—

Zuko let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair, realising only at the last moment that it was pulled into a topknot with the Fire Lord's headpiece fixed in place and that he had just messed up the style. He cursed and tugged his hair loose, almost flinging the headpiece away. It teetered on the desk and fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Taking your frustration out on inanimate objects now?"

He flinched at the sound of the flat, far too familiar voice. Zuko turned on his seat to see Mai leaning against the doorframe, idly swinging a blade around her fingers. Her expression was unreadable, as usual, but just seeing her still made his stomach clench.

"I thought you didn't want to see me," Zuko said slowly.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment."

He didn't know how to respond to that. Mai had made it very clear that she was not happy with him—not for abandoning her to go side with the Avatar, and not for getting Katara pregnant. Zuko would have to be a monster to not feel some guilt, even if it was true that he had broken up with Mai before being with Katara. It was also true that he had never expected to get back together with Mai. Actually, maybe that was the problem. She had turned up on the day of his coronation and had thought they would just fit neatly together again, but Zuko had long since realised that what he had felt for Mai was not enough for a relationship.

She had been a distraction. It was an awful truth, but a truth all the same. He felt affection for her, and he definitely wanted her to be happy, but did he love her? No. If anything, she had rushed him into a relationship when he had been too confused and lost to say no; when he had been starving for reassurance and comfort. He didn't blame her for it. Hell, he was appreciative of all she had done for him, because spirits knew he had been a terrible boyfriend, but that didn't change what he felt in his heart.

Mai heaved a sigh. "Are you going to keep having an internal monologue with yourself or are you actually going to talk to me like a normal person?"

Zuko blinked. "How—"

"You're very easy to read."

He swallowed and picked up the headpiece from the ground. "I don't know what to say to you," he admitted.

There was no point trying to pretend otherwise. He couldn't give her what she wanted and she had never cared for his apologies.

Mai's lips quirked into what might have passed for a smile. "Relax. I'm not here to demand anything from you. I just thought you should know I'm leaving."

"What? To where?"

"Ty Lee and the other warriors are heading back to Kyoshi Island. I thought I might tag along—see the world for a bit."

His stomach clenched again. Was she leaving because of him? Did she even really want to?

Mai rolled her eyes. "There's no need to look like that. I'm not doing this because I'm pining over you or anything. I just want a change of scene; my parents will be here soon and will have a line of suitors prepared for me now that you're out of the picture. I'd rather stuff my head in a bucket of kumquats than put up with that."

Zuko didn't know how much to believe her, but he had to admit that he was relieved she was giving him an easy road out. Relieved and a little guilty. He had treated Mai so poorly; he thought he should have been able to find a way to make it up to her, but he didn't know how. Break-ups were difficult. Trying to fix the wounds of the heart was difficult—especially when the other party was someone who never liked to show her vulnerability.

"I'm sorry, Mai."

He said the words softly. Involuntarily. Mai's expression flickered—a crack that revealed far more than her blasé words ever could, even if it was just for a split-second. She slipped her blade back into the folds of her sleeve and pushed herself away from the wall.

"You're starting to sound like a broken music box." She turned her back on him, calm and poised as ever. "I told you I didn't come here expecting anything. I just wanted to say goodbye."

Zuko swallowed. There were many things he wanted to say in response: that he was glad she had approached him today; that he was sorry for not being a better friend, let alone boyfriend; that he hoped she could be happy and find someone who could love her properly. But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he watched her leave, still gripping the Fire Lord's headpiece in his hand. Mai didn't once look back.

It bothered him more than he thought it would.

Mai was not the girl he loved, but she had still been there for him. In a way, he regretted that he hadn't been able to love her like she'd wanted. It would have been easier to be with her—so much easier than letting himself get caught up in Katara and all the confusing, unhappy consequences that had come with it.

" _You need to repair your relationship with Aang."_

" _I'm_ trying _. Aang won't talk to me."_

" _As Fire Lord, you must choose what will be good for everyone."_

" _I can't make myself love you."_

Zuko frowned at the golden headpiece in his hand. It was funny in a way: he had spent three years chasing his home and birthright. The first time he'd got it back—when he'd sided with Azula—he'd realised his mistake and promptly left the palace to make things right. He'd been freer just being Zuko, a runaway prince by choice, than he'd ever felt in his life. Now he was the Fire Lord. Now he was bearing a whole nation on his shoulders and trying to correct the wrongs of his father. Now he was engaged to a girl who, even when she wasn't being horrid, still made him feel all upside down and like he could do nothing right.

It was crushing him.

He inhaled sharply. If he was back on his ship, he would have donned a mask and his dual dao swords and taken refuge in anonymity. He would have surrendered himself to the shadows and rooftops, letting the sheer physicality of being the Blue Spirit distract his mind from all the troubles that weighed down on him. He would have become someone else, if only for a little while, and somehow that would have been enough.

The urge to do the same now was far too tempting.

Zuko glanced out the window at the setting sun. His uncle wouldn't be back for a while. There was time. He could retrieve his swords and—

And what? Run away from the palace. Run away from Katara and all of his responsibilities?

 _Yes_ , came a desperate cry from within him.

Zuko was being suffocated by his role as Fire Lord: by all the expectations and pressure; by a job that was just too big for a sixteen year old with no experience. He was going to be a father; he was getting married to a girl who hated him, and he was worried and exhausted, and—

"Fire Lord Zuko."

He tensed at the sound of his title. He hadn't even heard the servant knock on the door.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, pulling himself together.

"General Iroh asked me to bring some refreshments for you. He figured you would be here."

Zuko bit back a smile when he saw the teapot and cup, along with a few snacks. If Iroh hadn't stayed with him at the palace to help administrate and restore stability to the Fire Nation, Zuko was sure he would have gone crazy long before now. Uncle could be a nag, but there was no doubt he cared.

"Thank you," Zuko said, moving to pour a cup of tea.

The servant bowed and exited the room. Zuko drank his tea in what Iroh would have thought was blasphemously large gulps; the young Fire Lord had never seen what was so special about the drink and didn't see why one had to savour it. It was just hot leaf juice. Half the time he couldn't even differentiate the flavours. Still, his uncle had thought about him and asked for the tea to be prepared for him—perhaps had even prepared it himself—so Zuko would drink the tea.

He absently poured another cup and returned to looking over the documents on his desk. Some of the words started to blur. He frowned and gave his head a small shake, blinking to focus his vision. It didn't help. His head throbbed with a sudden headache, and he realised then that he was finding it difficult to breathe.

"No," Zuko gasped, even as the teacup slipped from his nerveless fingers.

He stumbled into the desk, knocking over parchment and spilling ink. His head swam and the room spun round and round, curving and twisting and making him feel like he was going to throw up. Spirits, this couldn't be happening. Panic clawed at his chest. He aimed his fist at the window and used what little breath he had to fire off a torrent of flames—straight through the glass to send broken shards flying everywhere. That would bring someone. At least he hoped.

 _Please,_ he thought. _Please come._

Black splotches crowded in on him. His head felt both heavy and light. Everything was ringing and spinning and he was falling, and he couldn't make sense of anything now. The last thing he remembered was someone screaming—so much screaming. Then his mind stopped functioning altogether and the world went silent.

 **oOo**

"Hurry!"

Zuko struggled for breath. His insides felt like they were burning and his head was throbbing. The nausea and pain tugged at him, trying to drag him back into oblivion. Voices hummed around him—most edged with panic—and he felt hands feeling his vital points: checking his pulse, his heartbeat. Strange, he'd thought both had gone silent. He tried to open his eyes, but it was like his eyelids had been glued shut. Nothing was responding.

"Did you get it all?"

"I don't know!"

"Sis—"

"I'm _trying_! I've never done this before, so just—just—"

The girl sounded upset. He wanted to tell her it was okay; that she didn't have to feel responsible for whatever happened to him, but all that came out of his mouth was a slurred mess of sound. His head throbbed violently from the effort. It was so hard to focus. Helpless, he gave up on trying to communicate and let his mind drift in and out of consciousness. The voices faded in and out with him.

"I can't believe someone tried to kill him."

"Does anyone know who did it?"

"Not yet, but—"

The words became more distant, almost garbled. Zuko struggled to keep hold of the conversation. There was something important that he was forgetting, but the voices slipped from his grasp, and his consciousness slipped along with them. The next time he opened his eyes, he realised he was lying on a bed and there was a person leaning over him. He caught a glimpse of long dark hair and a hint of a feminine scent.

"Mother?"

The person started at the sound of his voice. No, not his mother. Definitely not her. This girl was dark-skinned, blue-eyed, and not much younger than him. She pulled back from him and called to someone else in the room, but then his vision clouded and he was back to feeling his way through darkness. Thoughts scattered like string tossed into the wind. He was floating, or falling, or maybe both at once. The pain and nausea was making him disoriented. It was only the voices that pulled him back to reality, tethering him to the sounds of the familiar.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Young. A little panicked. That voice had to belong to Aang.

"Katara said he woke up before," the older, much more calming voice of his uncle responded. "She said he wasn't entirely lucid at the time, but that she didn't think any permanent damage had been done."

"Yeah, but—"

"Don't worry, my nephew is strong." Something brushed Zuko's hand. "Katara is sure that she got all the poison out of his system; there's no reason why he won't recover. He just needs to rest now."

Aang let out a breath. "I still can't believe it. If Katara hadn't been here, he would have—and I was thinking such horrible things about him earlier, and—"

There was a pause. It sounded like the boy might have been struggling not to cry.

"Aang."

The name was a croak escaping Zuko's lips, barely audible. Still, the sound of his voice made both occupants in the room freeze. There was a small gust of wind, as if Aang had just propelled himself to the bed. Zuko struggled to open his eyes. Aang's blurred face came into view: still panicked and looking absurdly youthful.

"Stop beating yourself up," Zuko told him. "It's okay if you're mad at me. I know—"

"Don't be stupid! How can I be angry at you when you're—" Aang choked on his words, eyes sparkling with the over brightness of unshed tears. "You almost died. You almost _died_ , Zuko, and all I've been doing lately is wishing you were out of the picture and that you had never become my friend. I'm—I'm an awful person."

Zuko's mouth curved into a slight, albeit exhausted, smile. "You idiot. That's normal."

Aang's eyes widened. "What?"

"I said it's normal to wish things like that. You like her, right?"

Aang chewed on his lip and lowered his gaze. He nodded.

"Then don't sweat it."

"But the monks said—"

"The monks said a lot of praiseworthy and inspiring things, I'm sure," Zuko cut in, "but no one is perfect. _You_ don't have to be perfect, Aang. You can hate me; you can even hit me if you think it'll make you feel better—just, uh, maybe not right now."

He winced a little as his head throbbed again. He still felt far too weak and woozy. Still, Aang's mouth twitched into a reluctant smile, so it seemed his attempt at a pep talk had done the trick. Maybe he was getting better at this comforting thing; Iroh was certainly giving him an approving look.

"I'm sorry!" Aang burst out, suddenly throwing himself at Zuko's chest. "I've been a big jerk!"

Zuko made an "oomph" sound at the impact. "Uh, I said you could hit me. Not hug me."

All he got was a watery chuckle and a tighter hug in response. Damn. He didn't know how to deal with a soppy, apologetic Aang.

"Seriously," Zuko said, giving the younger boy an awkward pat on the back. "You don't have to feel bad. I would have reacted way worse than you."

And it was true. He had turned into a jealous, nasty piece of work all because some idiot at a beach party had made eyes at Mai. Aang's temper tantrums had been very mild compared to what Zuko would have done in his place.

Aang pulled back to meet Zuko's gaze. "Don't get me wrong, a part of me still wants to be angry." He frowned and shifted to sit next to Zuko on the bed. "I felt so betrayed when I heard what had happened between you and Katara. I do like her, you know, and I kept asking myself if Katara would be with me now had you not joined us. If you weren't here, maybe I wouldn't have to hurt so much."

Zuko opened and closed his mouth, though no words came out. How was he supposed to respond to that?

The airbender shook his head and glanced at his hands. "But I can't be mad. Not really. Katara looked so scared when she was trying to heal you; all of us were so scared. The poison was killing you, and all I could think was that the last thing I'd told you was to leave me alone and never talk to me again. If you'd died, that would be it. I'd have to live with those words forever." He gave an odd sort of shrug. "I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be a person who holds grudges. Even if it's hard for me to be around you right now, I don't regret becoming your friend, and I don't want you out of the picture." He held out his hand in offering. "So, I'm sorry for being a big jerk. I'll try to be a better friend from now on."

Something warm stirred in Zuko's chest. "You idiot," was all he could say.

He ignored Aang's hand and pulled the boy into a hug. Zuko told himself it was just because he had almost died and was still a bit loopy—not because he had been touched by Aang's words and was now light-headed with relief. Aang's friendship did mean a lot to him; maybe he couldn't say it aloud in so many words, but it was true. They had been through so much together; it had really hurt to think that he had ruined that because of the mess he'd got himself into with Katara.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Zuko murmured, soft enough so only Aang could hear. "You know that, right?"

Aang hugged him tighter. Zuko took that as a yes.

"Iroh, I've got—"

The two boys broke apart at the sound of Katara's voice. She blinked and stood frozen in the doorway. They blinked. There was much blinking.

"Uh." Aang got off the bed and rubbed the base of his neck. "I guess I'll let the others know Zuko is awake."

"Try not to let them all come piling in here if you can," Iroh said with a twinkle in his eye. "My nephew is still recovering."

Aang nodded and slipped out of the room. Zuko noted that the younger boy had avoided meeting Katara's gaze when he had walked past her. More troubling was the narrowed look she had given Zuko himself. Seriously? What had he done to upset her now?

Katara cleared her throat. "I brought fresh water. Suki and Toph managed to track down Mayumi as well."

"Mayumi?" Zuko questioned.

"The female servant who found you convulsing in the study." Katara shifted her gaze back to Iroh. "Mayumi is still a bit shaken, but at least she's not in hysterics anymore. It seems she thought she was going to be blamed for the poisoning and that's why she tried to run."

"Thank you, Katara," Iroh said warmly. "I had better go speak with Mayumi now; we need to contain news of the assassination attempt as much as possible. I'd also like to ask her a few questions."

Katara nodded and stepped aside to allow him to exit.

"Uncle," Zuko said, remembering the detail that had slipped his mind earlier. "It was the tea. Someone had poisoned the tea. A servant brought it to me and said you had arranged for refreshments."

"What?" Iroh exclaimed. "How could someone use tea in such a way? It's a desecration of the—"

Zuko's expression became entirely flat. "Really? That's what you got from that?"

Iroh managed, and probably not without effort, to cut short his rant on why tea should never be used as a murder tool. It wasn't that Zuko believed his uncle was trying to be flippant; Iroh just had an unfortunate obsession with tea. And using the correct etiquette when preparing and consuming tea. And—

Ugh. Now he was the one thinking about tea. Stupid Uncle.

Iroh stroked his beard. "Well, we did suspect as much that you'd ingested poison. It's also true that I did ask refreshments to be prepared for you. You never eat enough," he added as a side note, half-scolding. "Do you remember what the servant looked like?"

Zuko tried to think. There were so many new servants in the palace since Azula had banished everyone during her short stint on the throne, and he was still getting to know their names and faces. Plus, he'd been so distracted at the time with his own brooding that he hadn't spared much of a glance for the servant's face.

"Female," he said finally. "She was female. Dark hair, average height." He shrugged. "That's all I can remember."

Iroh thanked him, promised he'd be back later to check on him, and then left the room. Now it was just Zuko and Katara alone in the bedroom. Zuko swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He could feel the tension descend like a thick, choking weight. It was frustrating. Apparently, even almost dying wasn't enough to unstick whatever Katara kept shoved up her arse to make her so rigid and unrelenting. It made him question Aang's words—even what he could recall himself from those dazed, half-conscious moments. He couldn't imagine this prickly girl showing fear for him when she had been trying to get the poison out of his system.

Katara advanced towards the bed. "I'm going to do a final check to see if everything is okay. It'll be easier now that you're conscious."

"Alright."

He tried not to tense when she placed her glowing hands on his chest. His heavy robes had been removed, leaving his chest bare, and his skin tingled from her touch. He knew it wasn't just because of the healing power infused in her hands. She kept her head bowed as she worked, which he honestly found a bit irritating. Was she not even going to look at him?

"Are you mad at me?" he couldn't help but ask.

Katara's hands stumbled over the fluid circles she was creating against his skin. "What gives you that idea?"

"You're kidding, right?"

She sucked in a breath. "I'm just trying to focus on reading your energy."

"Sure."

His disbelief must have been obvious, because she actually raised her head to meet his gaze. Her lips pursed a little.

"You're distracting," she informed him. "Stop talking."

He shook his head and spread his hands in the gesture of one who has given up. "Wow. Just wow, Katara."

This time she paused in healing him altogether. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Gee, I don't know. Someone tried to kill me today. Most people would show a little concern—especially since it's obvious you were the one who healed me—so I'm sort of confused about your behaviour now. Do you really hate me so much that you can't even bring yourself to be civil once the crisis is over?"

"How am I not being civil?"

"You glared at me the moment you came into the room!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!" Zuko argued. "You walked in, saw Aang and I, and then you glared at me!"

Her expression soured at the reminder, as if she had just shoved a whole bunch of lemons into her mouth.

"See!" He pointed his finger at her. "Your expression was just like that."

Katara swatted his finger away and gathered the water back into her flask. "It looks like you're fine."

"Wait."

She tried to walk away, but he managed to scramble off the bed and grab her wrist to stop her. Unfortunately, his legs couldn't hold his weight and he soon lost his balance. Katara quickly steadied him before he could fall; she tugged on the hand still holding her wrist and looped one arm around his waist, pulling him close. It was like a shock of sensation. Their bodies collided and, even with all the wooziness he was suffering from, he was struck by how warm and soft she felt. How her hair tickled his skin. How she smelt like soap and a light hint of flowers. How the pads of her fingers pressed into his lower back, almost embracing.

How achingly familiar it all was.

"Idiot," she murmured into his shoulder. "Don't waste my efforts by exerting yourself."

Zuko's pulse raced: maybe from simple dizziness; maybe from being so close to her. He could feel her breath on his skin. She guided him back to the bed and forced him to sit down, shifting to stand between his legs as she kept him steady. The loss of her touch signalled that she was done. He grabbed onto both of her wrists before she could step away.

"Katara," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on their hands. "Just tell me what is bothering you. You promised to try, remember? You agreed we should be civil to each other and try be friends, but this—you weren't even this bad when we met in the garden earlier, so why—"

He inhaled sharply. No, getting frustrated at her would just set her back up again. She was prickly and annoying, but he couldn't lose his temper with her. Not if he wanted her to be honest and not just get defensive.

"What am I doing that's upsetting you so much?" he asked, raising his eyes to her face. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me."

Something broke in her expression. She didn't look like she was sucking on lemons now; she looked small and tired. "You want to know the truth?"

"Yes."

She detached herself from his grip. "Because I saw you with Aang. Because he hugged you like it was nothing. Because he looked happy with you. Natural." Her voice edged with irritation. "Why was it so easy for you? You earned his forgiveness just like that, but he won't even—he wouldn't even—"

Zuko blinked. "Wait. Are you jealous of me? Of me and Aang?"

Katara bit her lip and looked the other way.

Zuko found that he wanted to laugh. Of all the reasons he had set up her back tonight, this was not the one he had been expecting.

"Katara, I was almost killed in an assassination attempt," he reminded her. "Aang got so freaked out that I would die on him and he wouldn't get a chance to fix our friendship that he managed to get over his issues. Is it really so much of a surprise? You know he's not the grudge-holding type."

"Then why is he still avoiding me?" she demanded, flushed and upset. "Why can he forgive you and not me? I tried to be so be gentle and understanding with him, and—"

"Because you're the person he likes," Zuko said softly. "He doesn't think he's in love with me, Katara. I'm his friend, but that's it. You mean so much more to him."

She said nothing. He knew it wasn't because she was appeased.

"Give him time," Zuko suggested. "I don't think it's that Aang doesn't forgive you; I think he's just not sure how to let go of his feelings for you. He's still just a kid, and I'm guessing you're his first love. If anything, he's probably not sure how to behave around you right now."

Katara raised her eyebrow. "Since when did you become an expert on love and emotions?"

"I'm not." He fought the blush that warmed his cheeks. "I'm really, really not. I just—I just think maybe you're expecting too much from him too soon."

Her eyes narrowed. Zuko backpedalled.

"Not that it's a terrible thing," he was quick to add. "Just, uh—I mean it's like with me and Mai."

"Mai? That gloomy girl with the knives?"

Zuko's blush darkened. "Um, yeah. She's my ex-girlfriend. You didn't know?"

Katara's blank stare told him she hadn't known. Oh.

"W-well," Zuko stammered, trying to ignore the whisper that said he was just digging himself a deeper hole. "I, um, broke up with her before I joined you guys. She wanted to get back together on the day of my coronation, but I wasn't sure about my feelings for her, and then the whole pregnancy thing happened, and—"

"And?" Katara prompted.

Zuko swallowed. "Um. She wasn't happy."

"Wow. I never would have guessed that your gloomy ex-girlfriend wasn't happy when she found out you had got another girl pregnant while she was busy thinking you two would get together again. So, did you have sex with her too?"

"What?" Zuko blushed and made spluttering sounds. "No! You're the only person I've—"

He broke off abruptly, not needing a reminder of those memories right now. Katara actually looked surprised. Perhaps she had not realised that he had also been a virgin when they had got together that night at the temple.

"Anyway," Zuko said firmly. Anything to change the subject. "My point is that Mai and I have known each other since we were little kids. I grew up with her; I never wanted to hurt her, but our relationship didn't work out, and—" he shrugged "—well, just earlier she told me she was going to leave with Ty Lee and the Kyoshi Warriors."

Katara stared at him closely. It was a little unnerving that she wasn't interrupting as usual, but at least it showed she was listening. That was good enough.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I almost didn't want her to go," he admitted. "I mean, I did, because then she can't get angry at me and she's kind of scary when she's mad, but a part of me also wants to be selfish and keep her here, because having her leave when I know it's mostly my fault makes me feel guilty, and I don't want to feel guilty." He shrugged again. "I don't know if I'm making sense, but—"

"You're making sense." Katara pressed her hand to her forehead. "It's convoluted as heck, but you're making sense."

Zuko's mouth twitched into a smile. "Sorry. I'm not good with words. But you see what I mean? Right now Aang cares too much about you. Until he can let go of those feelings, it'll just be hard for him to be around you."

Katara sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. "I know. It's not like I don't know."

Zuko said nothing. He was too startled by the fact she had sat next to him and was even acting calm. He didn't want to ruin it.

"I guess this is what everyone was talking about when they'd go on those field trip things with you," Katara said after a moment.

"Huh?"

She actually laughed. "Never mind. I just realised you're not so bad to talk to, even if you do suck with words."

Again, he could only blink. "Uh, thanks?"

Katara looked like she was trying hard not to smile. He guessed he was glad he could be of amusement to her. Maybe? He didn't understand what was so funny, but whatever.

"How are you handling things?" she asked him more seriously.

Zuko's brow creased. "Uh, fine, I guess. It's better for Mai to have some space to figure things out and—"

"Not your relationship problems, you dunce," Katara retorted. "Someone tried to kill you today. You're acting like it's no big deal."

"Actually, that was you earlier—"

Katara pursed her lips. Point taken. He would shut up.

Zuko sighed and flopped back against the bed. He felt too dizzy sitting up anyway. "This isn't the first time someone's tried to kill me, Katara; it's just the first time since I've become Fire Lord."

"And that makes it okay?"

He shrugged. "Uncle and I both expected that people would try to assassinate me at some point; it comes with the role. I was careless today. It won't happen again." His brows snapped together and he sat up, ignoring the sudden rush of light-headedness. "Which reminds me, don't eat or drink anything unless someone has tested it first for poison, because—"

"I might become a target too," she finished. "I know. Iroh already explained everything."

Zuko settled back against the bed. "Oh. That's good."

She leaned over him to meet his gaze. The ends of her hair brushed against his chest. "You're not going to do anything dumb and reckless, are you?"

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know you. You're the type who'd purposely put himself in danger just so he can draw out his pursuers."

Zuko swallowed. Damn, she was spot on.

Katara's eyes narrowed. "I knew it."

"It's the fastest way to—"

"You'll just end up getting hurt again, and then I'll have to heal you again, and then—"

"Are you really that worried about me?"

Zuko had asked the question out of genuine curiosity, but the words somehow came out far more teasing than he'd intended. Maybe that was why she flushed to the roots of her hair and got to her feet.

"Fine!" she snapped. "Be dumb and reckless! See if I care!"

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Zuko let out a breath. Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Stupid of him; they had been doing so well for a while.

He sighed and spread out more on the bed. Oddly, even after almost being poisoned to death, the pressure he had been feeling earlier seemed to have lessened a little. He wasn't sure what that said about his mental state, but oh well. He was alive, Aang wasn't acting like a petty brat to him anymore, and Katara had almost had a normal conversation with him. It was a step up from the unhappy life he led most days. Zuko thought he could live with the assassination attempt.

* * *

Gah, this chapter wouldn't end. I kept hoping to find a good spot, and then it would keep going, and now it's past 3am and I am sad and sleepy, because there are not enough hours in this world and I want sleep. Bother.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will admit I was a little loopy myself while writing because I've been sick all day. Hopefully, it all makes sense. Either way, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Until next time!


	6. Her Promise

This is late and I am sorry. Juggling multiple stories is hard. Thanks for your patience and reviews!

* * *

 **Her Promise**

Katara shut herself in her room and leaned against the door. A breath escaped her lips. What a day. Even now—even when she had mostly calmed down—her hands trembled. Only a few hours ago she had been thrust into a terrifying situation in which failure on her part would have meant Zuko's death. It had all happened so quickly; one moment she'd been talking with Suki and Toph, and then the next Aang was whirring towards her like an orange tornado and telling her she needed to come _quick,_ and then everything had just become a blur of frantic healing and anxiety.

The poison had taken hold so swiftly. Far, far too swiftly. She still remembered Zuko frothing at the mouth and how his body had jerked like a person having a seizure; she remembered the awful stillness that had followed, even as his chi had got weaker and weaker, slipping away from her touch no matter how fast she worked. He'd been dying—dying right in front of her.

Spirits, she had been so, so scared.

Katara exhaled, if a little shakily. Zuko was alive. She'd been telling herself that a lot since he'd proven himself on the mend, but the reminder never seemed to be enough. It was like something had been shattered inside her. A wall, a barrier—whatever it was that had been holding back her more honest feelings.

She had not wanted him to die.

It was a simple truth, but it was almost overwhelming for how it had pierced her to the core. She had not wanted him to die, yet he had come so close. Painfully close. She'd trembled and her eyes had stung; just the news that he'd been poisoned had made her struggle to get breath in and out of her lungs. She had not wanted him to die. It wasn't even because she was a healer and he was her patient; it wasn't because he was the Fire Lord and he was helping to keep those who wanted the war to continue away from power. It was because he was Zuko. Plain and simple.

Katara ran a hand over her face. She didn't like this new sense of clarity, this unshakeable feeling. It had been easier when she'd been able to hide under layers of frustration and obstinacy. She'd even tried to recreate the walls when she'd seen him hugging Aang. Sure, the jealousy she'd felt in that moment had been real, but it wasn't nearly as great as she'd made it out to be. Even she could admit that now. The fact Aang had forgiven Zuko first had just been an excuse to be mad with him again, to give herself a distraction so she wouldn't have to feel so exposed. Anger was safer than vulnerability. It had been all too easy to ignore the voice that said she was being petty, that she was being unfair.

But Zuko had managed to get through to her anyway.

She laughed a little at the memory, a hiccupping laugh edged with hysteria. That awkward dork. She'd been trying to push him away with all her prickles, and he'd just—he'd just calmed her down. He'd even got her to confide in him—properly, not just throwing words at his face. He'd listened to her. He'd been nice.

How was she supposed to face him again?

The wall was gone. She'd run out of excuses to hate him. All that was left was a confusing muddle of feelings—all the things she'd denied and which his near-death had so easily uncovered.

Katara sighed and banged her head against the door. Her cheeks were still warm from the blush he'd teased out of her before she'd fled from his presence.

" _Are you really that worried about me?"_

"Yes, you idiot," she whispered.

Because she knew now that he was important to her, even if she couldn't define how exactly he was supposed to fit into her life. Friend didn't feel right—not with the way he made her pulse quicken with the barest touch—but their relationship was so odd that she didn't know where else to put him. It was too confusing, too undefined. Or maybe it wasn't at all and she was the one who kept muddling things by refusing to see what was right in front of her.

" _What do you want from me?"_

The question taunted her—an echo of the words he'd spoken that night in the mural room. Katara stepped away from the door and threw herself onto the bed. She didn't want to think about this anymore, so she tried to force all thoughts of Zuko out of her mind. It didn't work. She tossed and turned and sighed and huffed, and when she finally did change into her sleepwear and fall asleep, it was to dreams of him.

She dreamt of Zuko being poisoned all over again, but this time she arrived too late to heal him.

She dreamt of the Western Air Temple—of the mural room where she and Zuko had come together in confused, desperate passion: all soft moans and insistent touches. She'd clutched his naked body to her in the dream just as she'd done in reality, welcoming him in deeper, wanting him all. Then the scene had changed. Azula had come to attack, and Zuko had left to meet his sister. He'd got knocked back from a blast—right off the airship where he and Azula had been fighting. Katara had reached out to grasp his hand—to pull him into safety—but their hands had never touched. He'd kept falling, and she had screamed.

Katara woke up crying.

She sat up in the bed that was too big for one person. Her cheeks were wet and she was still struggling to breathe at a normal pace. Without thinking, she pushed the covers off her body and slipped out of the room. The palace was quiet with no signs of life aside from the guards who paced the corridors. Katara ignored them and they ignored her, all aware of who she was and what she had done for their Fire Lord. Even the elite firebenders stationed outside Zuko's bedroom did not stop her when she tried to enter.

She found him sleeping in an embrace of moonlight.

A breath escaped her lips at the sight. He must have forgotten to close the curtains to his balcony. Still, Zuko seemed oddly relaxed for someone who had been poisoned that day. He lay on his side on a bed far larger than hers, one hand tucked under his chin, and with a few dark strands caressing his face and bare shoulders. His hair had got longer. She hadn't noticed since he always wore it up to accommodate his Fire Lord's headpiece.

Katara sat next to him on the bed and watched him for a while. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was reassuring. It made her own breathing slow and some of the tight knots of tension loosen from her body. The dreams had just been dreams. In fact, the whole situation seemed a bit silly now. She couldn't believe she'd cried; couldn't believe she'd let her feet drag her here to see him again— _just to make sure—_ and yet, and yet—

And yet a part of her still wanted to touch him.

A part of her still desperately needed that contact to remind her of the warmth of his skin; to confirm that this was real and she was not still dreaming.

She'd watched him fall to his death in her dreams because their hands could not meet. She'd cried over his cold, lifeless body because she had been too late to heal him. The shock of that despair, that helplessness, was something that still lingered beneath the armour of her pragmatism. It whispered for her to stop caring if something was silly or not; it told her to just do what was needed to feel better.

Because she knew that she really, really had been scared today. Maybe still was.

Because he was the father of her child, and today he had almost died.

Because she had realised she didn't want to do this on her own, and he'd almost left her to do so.

Katara bit her lip and carefully—oh so, so gently—brushed the dark strands from his face. His hair was as thick and soft as she remembered: black feathers and silk that she'd once entangled her fingers into, even gripped like an anchor when the pleasure he'd given her had pushed her over a star-blurred edge. She was about to trace the curve of his cheek when he gave a sudden twitch. Too late. Hands—much bigger and stronger than her own—latched onto her and tugged her forward, spinning her onto her back. All the breath escaped her in a startled whoosh. Then his weight was pressing into her, pinning her down. Flames surrounded his raised fist.

"Who—"

The threatening words died on his lips. He blinked and stared at her as if he couldn't comprehend how she had got underneath him. Katara, for her part, was trying her best not to blush. He was still gripping the front of her robe—pretty much touching her unbound breasts—and she was sure he had to feel the way her heart was pounding. Never mind how he was straddling her. The warmth and feel of him pressed so intimately against her was a shock to her senses—all teenage boy and inviting. They hadn't been this close since the mural room.

"Ka-Katara?" he managed to stutter. "What are you—why—"

She shoved at his chest. "Get off!"

Zuko released her as if burnt. She quickly slid out from underneath him, her face frustratingly hot. Of all the times to get caught by him. Even now she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

"Wha-what—" Zuko tried again.

She pressed a hand to her heated cheek. "Don't get the wrong idea," she snapped. "I only came to check on you because I—because you—"

Words failed her. She couldn't say she was worried, even if it was true. She couldn't say she'd just wanted to comfort herself with his presence so she wouldn't have to suffer through more nightmares. But no lies came to her assistance either.

He visibly swallowed. "Are you—are you okay?"

Katara was confused by the question; wasn't she supposed to be the one worried about him? Then she remembered she'd been crying, and he was still holding a ball of flames for light. Her eyes were probably red and puffy and her cheeks stained with dried tear trails. How mortifying.

"I'm fine!"

She scrambled off the bed and fled his room. It was the third time that day she'd run away from him, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her face was too hot, her heart pounding too fast, and she didn't ever, ever want to see him again.

 **oOo**

The next morning found her waking up with another headache. It had taken her so long to get back to sleep. She dressed with little energy and ate her breakfast with even less. Then her stomach decided the food was not to its liking, and she ended up curled over a chamber pot, heaving up what felt like everything she'd eaten for the last year. Ugh. Even the smell of food made her want to be sick.

Suki found her like this not long after, making pitiful sounds and with a bit of vomit stuck to her chin. "Well, don't you look lovely," the older girl teased.

Katara just moaned. "Remind me to kill Zuko when I next see him."

Suki laughed. "After all that effort you spent healing him yesterday?"

"He deserves it."

Katara had seen enough pregnant women in her village to know that this was what people called the dreaded morning sickness. She had been hoping it might just pass her by, as it did for some, but it seemed she was not so lucky. Oddly, it was also while slumped over the chamber pot that she'd felt for the first time like she was properly pregnant. Like, actually, actually. Of course she'd _known_ she was pregnant—had so since the party—but the whole concept had seemed like some far off thing. There was still no bump to round out her stomach—not that she could tell, anyway—and she couldn't sense much about what was going on inside her.

If she were to be honest, her child just hadn't felt all that real before. Not in a physical sense. But now it did. There was a baby growing inside her. A real baby.

And it was making her miserable.

Katara let out another pitiful sound. "Why did I kiss him, Suki? Why couldn't I have just kept my hands to myself? Why can't he be the one who has to sick up all his food?"

Suki bit back a smile and knelt next to her. She held Katara's hair away from her face and rubbed her back in soothing circles. "It'll pass in a month or two, you know. Morning sickness doesn't last that long."

Katara knew this was true, but she also knew her nausea would only be one of many unpleasant things that she would have to experience. It was going to get worse. Much, much worse. Just the thought made her want to revert to being a child—before she'd had to take on responsibilities too big for her; before she'd had to learn to hide her fear and swallow back her vulnerability. Put simply, she just didn't want to deal with this. Not right now. Not when she was still feeling so raw and exposed after yesterday's experiences with Zuko.

"Come on," Suki said gently. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Katara allowed Suki to steer her to the basin so all traces of vomit could be cleaned away. Suki even washed her hair and brushed it for her. It felt nice. Calming. Katara realised then that what she'd really been wanting was her mother. She was upset, and she wanted her mother. Gran Gran had taught her how to be resilient and responsible—to buck up and stop complaining and just focus on what needed to be done. But that wasn't what Katara needed right now. She needed squishy hugs and patience. She needed someone to wipe the sick from her chin and stroke her hair. She needed someone like Suki.

Overwhelmed, Katara wrapped her arms around the older girl and held on tight. "Thank you," she murmured.

Suki returned the embrace; she was intuitive enough to understand without the need of an explanation.

"You're not going to leave with the others as well, are you?" Katara asked suddenly.

She'd remembered what Zuko had told her last night: how Mai planned to leave with Ty Lee and the Kyoshi Warriors when they returned to Kyoshi Island. Their departure date was supposed to be soon.

Suki pulled back from the hug. Again, she needed no explanation. "I will have to go back—"

Katara's expression fell.

"—eventually," the other girl finished, smiling a little at Katara's reaction. "But not yet. I've placed Nanako in charge of the warriors for now. The girls miss the island; they want to go home and make sure everyone is okay." She shrugged. "It's only natural. So I said I'd stay here and join them later."

Katara didn't know why she felt guilty. Maybe it was because the questions she should have asked never got uttered:

 _Do you miss home? Do you want to go, too?_

She stayed silent because she could already guess the answers. Of course Suki missed the island; of course Suki wanted to go back and make sure nothing bad had happened since she'd left. But Suki was also Sokka's girlfriend, and Zuko had almost been assassinated, and Katara was pregnant and going to be married soon. In short, things were tricky. Suki was nice enough not to abandon them.

"Anyway," Suki said, changing the subject, "it's not good for you to stay cooped up in here. Toph's causing chaos in the courtyard. Want to go watch?"

"Wait, Toph's doing what?"

A smile curved Suki's lips. "She challenged the Imperial Guard to a bending match this morning. Says if they can't beat her then they don't deserve to guard Zuko anymore."

Katara blinked. That definitely sounded like Toph, though she did wonder if the earthbender had got Zuko's approval. Probably not.

Deciding that the match did sound interesting, Katara agreed to go and the two girls made their way to the courtyard where a small crowd had gathered. One of the old men she'd often seen hovering around Iroh and Zuko was having an argument with Toph. His thin, wispy beard flapped everywhere as he told her that her behaviour was not appropriate, and that the Imperial Guard had no need to prove themselves to a little earth brat, and—

Toph shut him up with a gag of stone. A lower-ranked official who had been standing near let out a little moan and clutched at his topknot. There was no sign of Zuko or Iroh, which was a bit odd since Katara could indeed see that many of the elite guards had gathered. All of them were big, strong men and towered over Toph like giants as they stood lined up in their red armour. At least they weren't wearing the creepy facemasks; Zuko had banned the practice once he'd allowed the firebenders to be reinstated to their positions after Azula had banished them all. Apparently, Zuko had thought the masks creepy as well.

"Alright," Toph said, moving to stand in the middle of the courtyard. "Which one of you chumps wants to go first?" She grinned wickedly. "Or you can all come at me at once. The result will be the same."

If this had been an Earth Rumble tournament, there would have been much bluster and muscle flexing from the guards. As it was, the men simply exchanged a glance and then one stepped forward to face her.

"One-on-one, huh?" Toph observed, and then she shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Katara frowned as the two got into position. "I wonder if we should stop this," she mumbled. "I don't know if—"

Someone passed her in a blur of red, black and gold. She noticed the five-pronged headpiece glinting on his head and realised it was Zuko. He strode up to Toph in a brisk way that suggested he was trying to look calm and in control, but really just wanted to run and put a stop to her craziness. He even forced a smile for the curious onlookers. Katara's lips twitched. As she'd thought, Zuko was not happy.

"Hey, Sunshine Lord," Toph greeted. "Gimme a moment to—"

Zuko snagged the girl's wrist and tugged her aside, smiling through his teeth all the while. Katara and Suki edged closer just in time to hear him demand in a low voice what Toph thought she was doing.

"You can't challenge the Imperial Guard, you idiot," he gritted out. "Of course you'll beat them; any of us could beat them."

"Then what's the point of having them?" she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. "You almost got kil—"

He clamped his hand over her mouth. "Not here!" he hissed. Then he seemed to realise that people were still watching and that what he'd done probably looked strange. He forced out a very fake laugh. "Oh, that Toph." He lowered his hand from her mouth. "Always the joker. Obviously there won't be any fights here today, so, uh, everyone carry on."

Someone booed from the crowd. Katara face-palmed when she realised it was her own brother; it seemed Sokka had been taking bets to see who would win.

"I'll deal with him," Suki said.

Katara thanked the older girl; she knew she'd just end up water-slapping her brother if she tried to scold him. Sokka could be so embarrassing.

That settled, Katara fixed her gaze back on Zuko. She inhaled a breath to steel herself and then closed the last few steps between them. "What's going on?" she asked.

Zuko started at the sound of her voice. His cheeks coloured and he glanced to the side, not quite meeting her eyes. "Look, this isn't the best place to—"

"Fire Lord Zuko!"

Both Katara and Zuko winced. The nasally-pitched voice had got right in her ears. It seemed Wispy Beard had finally managed to free himself from his gag.

"Just how long are you going to let this—" the man gestured at Toph in clear revulsion "—this _hell child_ run amok in the palace as she pleases? When your father was—"

"I think we can all agree that what my father did as Fire Lord was not the best," Zuko cut in icily.

Wispy Beard paled and straightened a little. What was his name again? Hisa? Hisata? "I only meant—"

"What you meant is to apologise to Miss Beifong, who is not only an important guest here but also my friend."

"But—"

"Hisao," Zuko said warningly.

That was his name. Hisao.

Hisao looked as if he'd swallowed something nasty. His lips pursed and his nose scrunched and even his wispy beard seemed to quiver in distaste. Then all the creases smoothed and he lowered into a small bow to Toph. "Forgive me, Miss Beifong. Your … exuberance is not something we are used to in the Fire Nation."

Toph picked her nose. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Hisao's eye twitched. He forced out a horrid smile, bowed once more to Zuko, and then stalked off with his fancy robes billowing. The lesser official who had moaned and clutched at his topknot earlier hurried after him. Katara's brow creased as she watched the two.

"Well, look at you, Mr Hot Pants."

Katara blinked at the sound of Toph's teasing. She glanced back just in time to see the smaller girl punch Zuko in the arm.

"You sounded like an actual Fire Lord just then," Toph continued, flashing a grin. "I was almost impressed."

Zuko just groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "This isn't good."

"What's not good?" Toph's grin widened. "You showed that old stiff who's boss and—"

But Zuko wasn't listening. Katara's stomach twisted a little as she looked at him— _really_ looked at him. He looked exhausted. In fact, he looked like he was about to keel over any moment. The healer in her kicked in.

"You should be resting," she murmured, moving closer and placing a steadying hand on his back.

Zuko tensed at the contact. She heard his tiny intake of breath. "I'm—"

"Don't say your fine," she cut in. "I can see you're not."

He straightened and shook his head. "Even so, I _have_ to be fine."

Their eyes met. Katara understood then: he had to appear strong because yesterday someone had tried to assassinate him and nobody knew who. He had to appear strong because a whole nation—no, the whole _world_ —was relying on him to maintain the fragile peace he'd created with his reign, and there were far too many people who wanted to destroy that. He had to appear strong because this palace was a pit of viper-scorpions, and he was just doing what was necessary to survive.

She sighed. "Put your arm around me."

Colour bloomed on his unscarred cheek. "W-what?"

Katara answered by looping her own arm around his waist and pulling him in close. Instantly, she was conscious of the warmth and firmness of his body, even with all the layers of cloth that he wore as Fire Lord. Her stomach fluttered. Damn him for having so much sway over her. Not that she let the fact she was flustered by his proximity show on her expression. Instead, she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Do you think you'll look strong to everyone if you pass out in this courtyard?" she asked in a low voice.

Zuko swallowed. "No."

"Then put your arm around me." She pulled him even closer, and her lips almost grazed his ear as she whispered: "These people know we're engaged. No one will question it if they see us walking like this together."

A small tremor passed through his body. She wondered if he was just as hyperaware of her as she was of him; if his heart also thumped and thumped like a drum that wouldn't stop, screaming that this was way, way too close. But this was also the best solution to his problem, so Katara pulled herself together and dug her fingers into his side—just enough to hurt.

"Just lean on me, you idiot," she whispered. "I won't let you fall."

Zuko exhaled a breath. Wordlessly, he slipped his arm around her to complete the one-armed embrace and let her take on some of his weight. They were so close that his jaw bumped against her cheek, sliding into a caress. He smelt nice. It hit her in that moment: a subtle scent that was like summer and boy mixed in one. Even the faint hint of sweat she detected on his skin wasn't unpleasant. Katara willed her heart to slow and her cheeks to cool. Of course, that was when she noticed Toph grinning in their general direction. Katara didn't want to know what those nosy little feet could feel, so she didn't let the girl make the taunt that was undoubtedly on the tip of her tongue.

"We're heading back first," Katara declared. "Tell the others to meet us in Zuko's room. I don't know where Iroh and Aang are, but see if you can find them as well."

Zuko gave her a questioning glance.

"It's about time you told us what's really going on, don't you think?" Her gaze found his. "We can't help you if you keep us in the dark, Zuko."

His eyes widened a fraction. Maybe it was because she had included herself in the list of those who would be there to support. She supposed it must be strange to him after all her nastiness; it was still a little strange to her. After all, even just this morning she'd been threatening to kill him while she'd sat slumped over a chamber pot. But that was just a petty grievance. The fact remained that Katara never turned her back on those who needed her help, and if there was one thing she knew for certain now, it was that Zuko needed all the help he could get.

" _Just lean on me, you idiot,"_ her eyes seemed to echo. " _I won't let you fall."_

Zuko's mouth relaxed into the tiniest of smiles. "Alright."

* * *

Hohooho, methinks Katara and Zuko doth need a fan to cool down all that sexual tension.

So this chapter sees some softening in our prickly waterbender towards Zuko (yay for progress). I know some of you have been wondering about her attitude and actions, and I hope this chapter clarified a few things. Also, never forget pregnancy hormones. That first trimester is a killer. ;)


	7. For Safety

Thanks to all the guest reviewers! If you'd like a reply to your review, make sure you're signed in and have your PM function turned on!

* * *

 **For Safety**

Zuko had dozed off at some point during the meeting. Katara knew this intimately, because they had been sitting next to each other—not out of choice on her part; it had just worked out that way—and now his face was nestled into the nook between her neck and shoulder. She could feel his soft breaths brushing her skin with every exhale; feel the warmth of his body pressed against her side, almost as if they were embracing. It was a far too close, far too _cuddly_ moment, and at any other time she would have had no hesitation in pushing him away. Except she just couldn't seem to do that.

Even if he was getting heavy.

Even if she was intensely, frustratingly hyperaware of him.

Katara bit her lip. Iroh was still talking—about important things that she should really, really be paying attention to—but she was too distracted by the fact that Zuko was _right there_. Maybe she should just shove him off. It would serve him right for falling asleep on her without her permission; it would also only be fitting since this meeting was about how to keep the newest Fire Lord in power and he, you know, was the Fire Lord.

But when his weight pressed even more into her, she simply shifted to accommodate for him. When he almost dislodged himself from her shoulder, she instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist to hold him steady. It wasn't because she wanted him to sprawl all over her, of course. It was just—it was just, well, he had been so exhausted earlier. He'd almost died yesterday. What kind of healer would she be if she woke him up when he was getting the sleep he obviously needed?

Also, there was absolutely no reason for Suki to be smirking at her so knowingly.

"So, that's how things stand now," Iroh said, making Katara snap back to attention. "Until we know for certain who is targeting my nephew, we must be cautious." He glanced at Toph with a smile. "That means you also can't go around challenging the Imperial Guard. It wouldn't be wise to reveal their weaknesses to the public eye."

Toph made a discontented sound. "I still don't see why Sunshine has to keep those useless guards. Someone wants to kill him; that person isn't going to stop just because they failed to poison him the first time. And what are those so-called elite firebenders gonna do? Wave their little flames around to scare the assassins off? I could snuff them all out with one foot!"

"I understand your frustration," Iroh acknowledged. "However, the Imperial Guard has always been more of a symbol of status than anything. They act as a deterrent and help to guard the Fire Lord as an extra pair of eyes, but in the end Zuko knows—just as the Fire Lords did before him—that he cannot completely rely on them."

"Then what?" Katara found herself asking. "Is he just supposed to take the risk? Whoever is targeting him is already in the palace or at least has contacts in the palace. How do we even know we can trust the Imperial Guard?"

"We don't," Iroh said simply.

She sucked in a breath. That wasn't the answer she had wanted. True, Zuko made her feel flustered and out of sorts, but that didn't mean she liked the idea of him being in constant danger. Without even realising, her arm tightened around his waist.

"What if you just mixed up his personal guards a little?" Suki suggested. "With people we can trust, I mean."

Sokka nodded in agreement. "We could even help with that."

Iroh spread his hands. "It is something that Zuko and I have considered, but he worries that changing or increasing the guard will only bolster those who oppose him. No Fire Lord has ever needed more than the Imperial Guard; to act differently now, no matter how justified, would be like telling the public that he is afraid." The older man shook his head. "I have to agree with Zuko: that is not a good message to be sending in such a tenuous time. Even those who support him would start to have their doubts if they thought he didn't have enough strength on his own to stay on the throne."

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. "I had no idea things were like this. I thought beating Ozai would just, I dunno, fix everything."

"You did well to defeat Ozai before he could do further damage to the world," Iroh said gently, "but war itself is not so easily solved. For Zuko, the real fight has just begun. We're doing our best to weed out those who still support Ozai and what he stood for, but that is not something that can happen overnight. I'm afraid it's also only going to get worse once the people start to really feel the effects of losing the war and all of the reparations that come with that. For the past century the Fire Nation has shifted most of its industry and labour into making war; now that work is no longer going to be worth anything. Many people are going to lose their livelihoods, and they will be angry." Iroh glanced sadly at his nephew. "I would have spared him this burden if I could, but—" he sighed and shook his head "—I'm afraid Zuko is the only one who has any chance of truly uniting the people now."

Toph rested her chin on her palm. "Well, there is one way we can at least ensure Sunshine has some better protection for now. In fact, it works out for both of them."

Iroh raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Just have Katara stick with him." Toph waved her hand in an airy manner. "All the important officials and guards already know they're engaged anyway, and as Sweetness pointed out herself, no one would think twice if she and Sunshine were seen to be close or even shared a bed at night."

Katara's cheeks burned. "What?"

Her voice must have come out too shrill, because Zuko made a soft sound and she felt him shift against her hold. She quickly pulled her arm away from him and then put more space between him. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked at them all sleepily. A faint dusting of colour spread on his cheeks when he found they were all gazing back at him.

"What?" he asked, looking quite confused. "Oh, no. Did I fall asleep?"

"Yep," Toph said bluntly. "You were drooling all over Katara. Looks like you still got some on your chin, by the way."

Zuko made a startled sound and wiped at his face, even as he cast an apologetic glance Katara's way. Their eyes barely met before he froze and whipped back around to glare at Toph.

"That wasn't funny," he gritted out.

Toph laughed and slapped her knee, clearly disagreeing. Sokka and Aang were also chortling. Both boys were the victims of her "you forgot I'm blind" trap so often that it was probably a relief to see it happen to someone else.

"Anyway," Suki cut in dryly, "Toph's joking aside, her idea does have some merit."

"Indeed," Iroh agreed. "It was something I actually considered myself and had been intending to broach to the both of you, but, well—" his gaze flickered to Katara "—I wasn't sure if it would be well-received."

Katara stood up from the bed. "Of course not!" She could feel her blush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. "You want us to share a room like a—like a—"

"Like a married couple?" Sokka supplied. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. "In case you've forgotten, sis, that's what the two of you are going to be soon."

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Zuko, meanwhile, looked as if he was struggling to make sense of the conversation. He glanced from Katara's flushed face to everyone else—most of whom wore amused or far too knowing expressions for her liking—and then back to Katara. Then he just groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Okay," he said, still hiding behind his palms, "someone tell me what's going on."

Iroh did the honours. Zuko's reaction was as bad as her own. He stood up just as she had done and then blushed and stuttered and shot her alarmed looks, even as he tried to convince them that he had everything under control and absolutely did _not_ need Katara to sleep in his room at night to help protect him. He'd survived plenty of assassination attempts in the past.

"Besides, she's pregnant," he finished a bit awkwardly, rubbing the base of his neck. "I mean, isn't she, uh, not supposed to do too much now or something?"

Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm not an invalid; I'm just pregnant. And saying you survived plenty of assassination attempts in the past is hardly reassuring. Need I remind you that you would have died yesterday had I not been there to get the poison out of your system."

"That was different," he responded, though his cheeks flushed a little. "I wasn't thinking then and—"

"And what happens if you have another lapse of attention?" Katara retorted.

His gaze met hers, and he bit his lip in frustration. "I won't."

"You can't promise that."

"Then what?" he demanded. "You want to do what they're suggesting and sleep in my bed with me? You want to take on that role?"

Her heart pounded. She was barely conscious of the other people in the room in that moment—only the boy in front of her with his intense golden eyes. Both of them were aware of why this wasn't a simple matter of offering protection. Just the faintest brush of skin made her body come alive; she could still remember how it had felt when he'd straddled her last night, thinking her an intruder. Dealing with that every night would be—sweet spirits, it would be torture.

Toph sidled up next to her and nudged her in the ribs. "So, are you saying you'll take up the task of being Sunshine's undercover bodyguard?"

Katara swallowed as she realised the trap she had walked into. "I never said—I just—" She floundered for words and ended up glaring at Toph.

"This isn't just for Zuko's benefit," Iroh pointed out, though his tone was far more soothing. "You and the unborn child you carry are also likely targets for assassins; if you and Zuko are together, we can focus the guards around you both, and you can also help to protect each other." His lips curved. "After all, two benders are better than one, and there is no denying you are both powerful benders."

Zuko lowered his gaze to the floor. Even Katara had no snappy retort. Her hands went to her stomach, feeling for the child she knew was growing inside. Everything Iroh said made sense; she had even promised just earlier that she would help Zuko to appear strong for his people. It was just—it was just—

" _You want to do what they're suggesting and sleep in my bed with me? You want to take on that role?"_

A shaky breath escaped her lips. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll do it."

Zuko's eyes darted to hers in shock. She held his gaze, her cheeks frustratingly warm, but neither of them said anything. Instead, it fell to everyone else to declare the matter was settled. Aang still looked a bit uncertain on how he should feel about the situation, but he was at least trying to be supportive and said he would do what he could for them while he was still in the Fire Nation. Sokka, of course, was just being his annoying, logical self and stated that he didn't understand why they'd even made it out to be such a big deal: both Zuko and Katara had shared tents and slept near each other plenty of times while they'd all been travelling together during the war, and it wasn't like they hadn't already—

But here Sokka trailed off, because he still seemed to struggle to say aloud that his sister had had sex with anyone, let alone one of his best friends.

"Thanks, Sokka," Zuko said in his driest voice. "We really needed that reminder."

Understanding dawned in Sokka's eyes. "Oh, right. Katara said something about how it was just a mista—"

"Idiot!" Katara screeched, shoving at her brother's back and pushing him towards the door, which she wrenched open with her bending. "Just shut up and get out!"

"Hey, I just—"

"Out!"

Katara kicked his butt for good measure, making him stumble a few steps out the doorway. Then she slammed the door shut on his face. There was an awkward pause and some very poorly disguised chuckling. Even Suki had to cover her mouth to hide her smile.

"Want me to deal with him?" Suki asked.

Katara pressed her hands to her burning face. "Please do."

She didn't even need to look at Zuko to know he was blushing just as much her. Sokka was such a big-mouthed idiot sometimes.

Suki left the room, but not before pausing to murmur in Katara's ear that she was proud of her for doing the mature thing. That was nice. Katara even started to feel her blush fade until Toph ruined it by suggesting far too slyly that she and Zuko had better not get too cosy with each other at night.

"Can't stop assassins if you're too busy—"

Zuko's hand clamped over Toph's mouth. "You be quiet too," he said firmly.

The earthbender seemed a bit disappointed to have her fun spoiled, but something in Zuko's tone made her not push the issue. Instead, she pulled his hand away and gave a careless shrug.

"Whatever. If you want to use my lie detecting skills to help suss out the bad nuts from the bunch, you know where to find me."

And then Toph trundled out of the room in that no-cares way of hers that only she could pull off. Katara wanted to be mad at the little stirrer, but she also couldn't bring herself to stay irritated for long. She had got to know the younger girl enough to realise that Toph was genuinely concerned about them. That was why Toph had come up with this plan and had even tried to take on the Imperial Guard earlier; she just wanted Zuko and Katara to be safe, and this was the only way Toph knew how to express that.

Katara found herself gazing at Zuko, who had clearly come to the same conclusion. There was another awkward pause—made more so by the fact it was now only Zuko, Katara, Aang and Iroh left in the room. Aang mumbled something about needing to find Momo and quickly made his escape. Even Iroh didn't seem to want to linger; the older man said he would organise the servants to move Katara's things so she could get all set up in her new room and then he smiled at them both before leaving. The door shut with a too-loud click. Katara let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Well, this is now a thing," she muttered, casting a jerky hand at his room. "Thanks to those stupid assassins, we're going to be roommates."

Or bedfellows. There was only one bed, after all, and the whole ploy would be ruined if they didn't share it.

Zuko looked like he didn't know whether to facepalm or just follow his uncle out the door. Then again, he'd never been a coward. Maybe that was why he ended up meeting her gaze.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"You didn't argue against it either in the end," she pointed out.

Better to deflect the question than answer.

He sighed and flopped against the bed so that he was lying on his back. "Maybe—maybe it is better this way. For you and the baby's safety, I mean."

"Aren't you forgetting someone on that list? I am supposed to be your undercover bodyguard now."

He raised his head to give her a flat look. Katara almost smiled. Almost.

She stepped away from the wall. "Look, we both know this is going to be … awkward, to say the least. But we're also both agreed that it's necessary for now, right?"

"I guess."

"So, let's just be professional about this. I mean, Sokka's right that it's not like we haven't shared tents before, so we can just—"

Zuko propped himself up on his elbows to meet her gaze. Judging by his furrowed brow, he seemed to be silently asking her if she was kidding. Katara trailed off and was annoyed that her heart raced a bit. Something about her body's reaction must have got tipped off to him through her expression, because he made a sound that might have been a groan—or a half-suppressed, half-hysterical laugh—and then flopped back against the bed and placed his arm over his eyes.

"This sucks," he mumbled more to himself.

Katara swallowed. She wasn't sure why his obvious frustration made butterflies stir in her stomach or her heart beat even faster, but the fact that it did at all made her feel embarrassed and like she was standing on the wrong foot. In true Katara fashion, it also made her decide she couldn't handle being in the same room with him anymore. Unfortunately, according to her new duties, she couldn't just leave him on his own either. Ugh, he was right. This sucked.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked the other way. "How are you feeling now, anyway?" she asked, desperate to change the subject.

If they just talked about healing things and such, maybe this would be okay. She could be professional if she focused on her duties as a healer.

"Fine, I guess," he said without enthusiasm.

"You don't have any lingering dizziness or headaches? Nothing like that?"

Zuko lowered his arm from his eyes and once more sat up to face her properly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, paused, and then just shook his head. She wasn't sure what that was about, but a second later he got to his feet.

"I'm fine," he said more firmly. "I was just tired earlier."

She watched him cross to the mirror so he could fix up his robes and the five-pronged headpiece secured to his topknot, which had got a little skewed after he'd fallen asleep on her. It was an oddly domestic moment, and she wasn't sure she liked the way it made her feel. Such moments were probably going to become common for them now. Just the thought made her cheeks warm. As if she hadn't blushed enough today.

"Are you almost done?" she snapped. "If you're as fine as you say you are, then there's no further reason for us to linger. It's not like I want to stay in this bedroom with you all day."

The look he gave her was almost as irritated as her own. She had to admit it took her off-guard. He'd been rather nice to her of late, but it seemed the fact they were going to be stuck in closer proximity had made his grumpier side come out. Or maybe it was just her bad temper getting on his nerves.

"Trust me," he gritted out, "the less we're stuck in this bedroom together, the happier I'll be."

Katara ignored the odd, confusing flutter that once again stirred in her stomach. Instead, she opened the door and stomped out of his bedroom. It was only later—as her own edginess increased while the sky changed from light to dark and signalled what was to come—that she realised why her body kept having such strange reactions to him. His voice had sounded frustrated, but his eyes had been heated and intense whenever they'd glanced her way.

Just as intense as they'd been that night when he'd lured her in like a moth to a flame, and she had found herself kissing him with all she had.

Katara swallowed and tore her gaze away from the boy with whom she was now expected to share a bed. Yes, Zuko had definitely been right earlier: this was really, really going to suck.

* * *

I wasn't actually going to include the "forced bed-sharing" cliché in this story, but hey, it became a cliché for a reason, right? Next chapter should be fun. *giant, unsubtle wink*


	8. The Longest Night

For those wondering (and worrying) about how smutty this story will get, all I can say is that I won't write anything explicit. I may dip my toes in the smutty waters—it is rated M for a reason—but I will give a heads up at the beginning of the chapter so you are aware of what's coming. Feel free to skip past those scenes if they're too steamy for you (kekeke, puns). There won't be any important conversations going on in amongst that, so you won't miss anything.

This chapter is "safe", by the way. Though I guess if you find this chapter too much, uh, sorry in advance. I guess we have different ideas about what's worth getting a warning…

* * *

 **The Longest Night**

Katara had never struggled so much just to enter a room. She stared at the door as if it was diseased, her hand hesitating near the handle. Two of the Imperial Guard stood grim-faced on either side of her, just staring straight ahead and saying nothing. It was ridiculous—more so because she wasn't even sure if Zuko was inside. He had parted ways from her earlier that day when he had been called into a meeting with Iroh and some other officials. She had no idea if he was still with his uncle or if he had come here to wait for her. It was late, and everyone else had gone to bed (she knew, because she had tried to make them stay up with her to chat for as long as possible). Now all her escape routes were gone. There was only the door, and beyond it the room—the _bed—_ that she would now share with Zuko.

Soft footsteps drifted towards her from down the corridor. She turned and almost sighed in relief when it was a servant, not Zuko, who rounded the bend. The woman who had stumbled across her was not so calm. She froze when she spotted Katara and clutched the bundled fabric in her hands to her chest, even as she lowered into a hasty bow.

"M-my lady," the servant stammered.

Katara's brow furrowed. The woman wore the same hairstyle and pinkish-red robes as the other female palace servants; her features would not have been particularly remarkable either except that she had grey eyes and a tiny mole by her lip. It was the servant who had found Zuko after he'd got poisoned.

"Mayumi, isn't it?" Katara questioned.

Mayumi nodded and kept her head bowed.

"I never got a chance to say this," Katara said, "but thank you for finding him yesterday. You helped save Zu—I mean, you helped save the Fire Lord's life."

"I do not deserve such praise," Mayumi mumbled, bowing even lower. "I am ashamed of my actions. I ran when I should have stayed, and in that I failed in my duty."

Katara waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "You don't need to feel so bad. You were scared; it's only natural."

She could only imagine how tense the servants were after surviving through or even just hearing about Ozai and Azula's rule. They probably all expected to be banished, executed or just made to "disappear" at the slightest provocation. Zuko wasn't like that, though; his past crimes were many, but over the top punishments had never been his style. Even Katara could admit he was a pretty forgiving guy when all was said and done.

"My lady is too kind," Mayumi said, dipping her head again, even while she remained stooped in a permanent bow.

Katara's frown deepened. "You don't need to keep bowing. It's okay to stand up."

Mayumi slowly straightened, still clutching the bundled fabric to her chest. The movement caused her sleeve to ride up more, revealing a patch of swollen, reddish-blue skin. Katara's eyes narrowed on the discolouration.

"You're hurt," she observed.

Mayumi tensed and tugged her sleeve down. "I was careless. It's nothing."

Katara ignored the woman's unspoken plea to let the issue drop; instead, she marched over and encased her hand with water from the flask that dangled from her hip; then she took Mayumi's arm gently in her grasp, pushed up the sleeve, and began to heal the injuries. It wasn't long before the bruises had all faded.

"There," Katara said, letting go of Mayumi's arm and bestowing her with a warm smile. "I'm a healer, you know, so you don't have to stay in pain. Are there any other places you're hurt?"

Mayumi shook her head frantically, mumbled a thank you, and then shuffled off down the corridor with another mumble that she had to get back to her duties. Katara frowned at the woman's retreating figure. Those bruises had been a little odd—more of a splotchy band that had curved towards a smaller, oval mark. Combined with the woman's timidity and the flash of fear that had flickered in her eyes when Katara had commented on the injury, it didn't paint a very good picture. People didn't get bruises like that from bumping into something.

"No one punished her for what happened yesterday, right?" Katara demanded, rounding on the silent guards. "To Mayumi, I mean."

Both men exchanged a startled glance. The one on the left cleared his throat.

"No orders were given to have her punished, Lady Katara. As far as we know, General Iroh simply asked her not to tell anyone that Fire Lord Zuko had been poisoned."

Katara bit her lip in thought. Then she just sighed and shook her head. Maybe she was overthinking things. It wasn't like she knew the woman. Still, something niggled.

"Keep an eye on her," Katara said.

"You think she is a threat to the Fire Lord?"

Katara's eyes widened at the sudden steely tone and the way both guards straightened like hunting animals. "What? No, no. I'm just worried for her," she said hastily. "It looked like someone might have tried to hurt her."

Both guards relaxed again. The one on the left even smiled a little. He almost reminded her of Bato when he smiled like that: like a kindly uncle who was pleased with her efforts.

"Lady Katara is very kind," the guard observed. "I can see now why Fire Lord Zuko chose you to become his future bride."

Then he froze and his eyes widened in alarm, as if he'd just realised he'd spoken out of his station. He cleared his throat and went back to staring ahead and being a grim-faced block of muscle.

Katara covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. "Thank you, uh—" she paused, frowning "—I don't actually know your names."

"Shima at your service, my lady," the man on the right said. He nudged his fellow guard. "This is Nobu."

She smiled at them both and then dared to ask if Zuko was inside the room. They shook their heads and said he had not returned yet. Katara let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She was in the clear for now.

"Um, I'll just go inside and wait for him then," she said, even as she fought the blush that warmed her cheeks.

"Will my lady require assistance?" Shima asked. "We can arrange for some servants to—"

"No, no." Her blush darkened. "It's fine. I don't need any servants."

Shima and Nobu nodded and opened the door for her. They promised that they would stand guard, so she could rest easy. She thanked them and walked inside. The bed was right there like a massive centrepiece, demanding all attention with its ornately carved four posters, silk curtains, and blatant opulence. Katara ignored the horrid thing and moved to where her belongings had been placed in the walk-in dressing area. Her clothes were the only hint of blue in the room—aside from herself—and stuck out like a sore thumb. Something red and silky looking had been folded and left out for her with a note scrawled on top. She picked up the slinky fabric and realised it was a robe. Frowning, she read the note:

 _A small gift. The nights are hot here, so this may be more comfortable for you to sleep in._

Katara raised her eyebrow. That handwriting was definitely Iroh's. What she wasn't so certain about was why he had bought her the gift.

She ran her fingers along the fabric—softer than anything she had touched. It was like water slipping off her skin; it was also thin and probably would indeed be much cooler than the Water Tribe tunic she had been using when she didn't just sleep in her wrappings. She winced a bit and pressed her hand to her breasts. Speaking of her wrappings, maybe she should just take them off now while Zuko wasn't here. Her breasts had been so sensitive of late and the pressure of the bindings was uncomfortable.

That decided, Katara set about removing her clothes and unwound the fabric keeping her chest covered. She sighed in relief once her breasts were unbound. That was so much better. Her gaze darted between her usual tunic for sleeping or the slinky thing Iroh had given her. She ended up going with the slinky thing. It felt as nice as she had expected against her skin, and it really was much cooler. Maybe she would have to thank Iroh.

Katara undid her hair and gave it a quick brush before returning to the main part of the bedroom. She stopped short when she saw Zuko sitting on the edge of the bed. Their eyes met.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said stiffly.

"You were changing." He shrugged and looked the other way. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Her face warmed. "You looked?"

Now it was his turn to blush. "No! Of course not! I just—I just figured that was what you were doing when I came in and didn't see you."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause.

"A-anyway," he stammered, getting to his feet. "I'm going to change."

He brushed past her and headed into the adjoining room she had just left. Katara watched him push the sliding partition doors shut—something she had forgotten to do. She wondered if he really hadn't looked, but then he had been so insistent about it. Ugh, whatever. Better to just take his word for it that he hadn't. This arrangement was going to be awkward enough without wondering if he'd watched her while she'd got undressed.

She finished up the rest of her nightly routine and then found herself sitting on his vacated spot on the bed. Zuko took longer than her to get changed—probably because he had to remove all the ridiculous ties and layers of cloth he wore as Fire Lord. She even heard him cursing a few times.

"Need some help?" she called, though her dry tone suggested she was not serious about the offer.

Zuko pushed open the partition and gave her his flattest, most unimpressed stare. She would have been amused were she not distracted by the fact he was now shirtless and his hair was unbound, framing his face in dark strands. He looked so much like the boy she had kissed that night in the mural room that her breath got lost somewhere in her throat.

"What?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder as if to check if there was something behind him.

Katara pulled herself together. "Nothing."

He cast her a frowny glance but then seemed to shrug off the matter. She tensed when he drew closer to the bed.

"So, you struggle to change your clothes that much on your own?" she taunted. "I didn't realise you were such a baby."

It was a petty jab, but then he was making her on edge. If she riled him up a little, perhaps this whole situation wouldn't be so awkward. Too bad her words had the opposite effect. Zuko's cheeks did indeed colour, but he didn't get annoyed. Instead, he explained that the servants were rather insistent about dressing or undressing him; they had been so even when he had only been a prince and hadn't had to wear the full Fire Lord regalia. His personal servants should have come to help him tonight as well, but they seemed to be under the impression that _she_ would be the one undressing him.

Katara's face flared with heat. "What?"

"Well, we aren't married and you are sharing my bed," he muttered, collapsing next to her on the mattress. "What else are they supposed to think?"

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. He was right, of course; it was only natural for the servants and guards to assume that Zuko was planning to be sexually intimate with her now that he'd moved her into his room. Heck, it wasn't like she hadn't known how it must appear to others; she'd barely been able to look Shima and Nobu in the eye when she'd said that she would wait for Zuko inside the bedroom. But hearing him voice that everyone was expecting them to have sex tonight while he was lying half-naked next to her on his bed was a whole different story.

Her stomach fluttered and a lazy coil of warmth stirred within her. She found that she couldn't meet Zuko's gaze, couldn't even give a response. Everything about the situation was a reminder that she had indeed undressed this frustratingly attractive boy once. In fact, it had been her hands that had first strayed that night in the Western Air Temple. Her entire self-control had crumpled at the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing against hers—so, so close but still not close enough.

He had been fire, and she had wanted to feel him burn through every inch of her.

Katara bit her lip. She sat rigidly straight on the edge of the bed, trying to banish the unwanted memories from her mind. It didn't work. Her body hummed in remembrance—a slow unfurling of desire that went achingly deep, whispering of how his skin had felt to her touch; of how his hands had uncovered her body in turn, caressing her breasts, her thighs, seeking out all her pleasure points. He'd shown her stars and made her feel both shattered and unimaginable bliss at the same time. That wasn't something she could easily forget. Not afterwards when she'd realised her mistake, and not now when they were about to share a bed.

Blood pounded in her ears. Her gaze drifted back to Zuko, whose entire being seemed far too close for comfort now. It was as if there was no space at all between them, or maybe it was that the space was calling to her, begging her to close it all and touch her lips to his; to run her fingers down the hard planes of his chest, his stomach, retracing paths that she had already memorised. Their eyes met—a charged moment heated with quickening heartbeats and far too vivid memories. Zuko abruptly rolled the other way, even as Katara twisted to face the opposite direction.

"We should go to sleep," he suggested, sounding a bit strained.

"Yeah." She swallowed. "Sleep is good."

It was hardly their most eloquent conversation, but she didn't trust herself to say anything further—not even to look at him. Her heart was still beating way too fast, and she was all too conscious of the heat pulsing between her thighs. So demanding. So full of yearning. Her body was like a spoilt child, making her feel the ache in full as it protested against her stubbornness to not allow herself any relief.

Katara sighed in an irritable manner and crawled over the mattress so she could slip under the covers. She stuck close to the edge, putting as much space as possible between herself and Zuko. A furtive glance over her shoulder revealed that he had done the same. Somehow, the sight didn't make her feel any better.

 _He'd cave to you,_ a sly voice whispered in her mind. _He did it before; he'd do it again. It wouldn't take much._

She gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists before her fingers could get any ideas about straying off across the mattress. No matter what, she would not give into this—this— _attraction_. Yes, he was good-looking; yes, they were sharing a bed and she knew intimately that he could reduce her to breathy moans of pleasure if she let him, but she wasn't going to do that. So there.

Katara forced herself to lie still and closed her eyes. She felt rather than saw Zuko put the candles out with his bending. Darkness settled around them. It should have been a relief—now she couldn't see him even if she wanted—but somehow it was worse. The gap between them had never felt so small or so achingly far. It was like her senses had gone into overdrive, reaching out to him so she could perfectly envision him lying on his side within almost touching distance.

Ugh. Somehow, she just knew that this was going to be a long, long night.

 **oOo**

It was the weight that woke Zuko. His dreams had started featuring odd things, like trying to serve tea at the Jasmine Dragon only to have a platypus bear drop out of nowhere and pin him down by his chest. Or, more embarrassing, was the dream where he'd been having a meeting with his ministers, and then Katara was sitting on his lap and asking him if he wanted her to help him out of his robes since he had so much trouble with them. Dream Zuko must have been crazy, because he actually agreed despite the fact everyone was watching. Not that she got very far; they kissed and touched, but every time she pulled off a layer of cloth, another one appeared underneath it. He'd even caught a glimpse of his Blue Spirit costume hiding amongst all the layers.

Needless to say, Zuko woke up flushed, confused, and with his body stuck in an odd sense of arousal and dissatisfaction. Then he realised there was actually a weight pressing down on him. A warm, far too soft, far too _feminine_ weight.

He tensed as the pieces fell into place. This was bad. Katara was on him. Literally on him. She'd nestled her face into his neck, arms clutching him close, and one of her legs was hooked around his hips as if she'd been trying to trap him into becoming her human pillow. And he could feel _everything:_ all her softness, all her warmth. Damn, damn, damn. No wonder he'd kept dreaming about being weighed down; the girl had sprawled herself all over him like she owned his body.

Spirits, he really, really hated her in that moment.

Zuko inhaled sharply and placed his hand on her thigh to unhook the offending limb from him so he could wriggle free or, if all failed, just push her off. Hesitation wasn't an option; that last dream he'd had, although ridiculous, had still managed to leave him hard and wanting. He worried for his sense of control; she was so, so close. His fingers itched to touch. He also knew that, if she woke up now, she would feel his erection and would probably think him a creep or that he was the one who had pulled her on top of him. Katara was often unreasonable; he had to get free.

A soft sound was all it took to alert him that she was stirring. Zuko froze and tried to push her away, but she clutched him even tighter in sleepy self-preservation. Geez, this girl was like a leech.

"Let go," he urged.

His voice got a reaction—it just wasn't the one he wanted. Like a sleepy wolfcat, she shifted against him, placing herself even more firmly against his very obvious erection. Zuko bit his lip to hold back a groan. This was absolute torture.

"Katara," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Get _off_."

He didn't trust himself to even touch her now, not even to push her off. Who knew how the intention would get warped in the process? She was driving him insane. Even now—even when he was practically begging her—she only stilled for a heartbeat before squirming a little on top of him, almost experimentally, as if she was trying to figure out what that thing poking into her might be. Zuko closed his eyes at the sensation. His hands grazed her hips in an involuntary gesture, wanting to pull her closer, to make the friction better. He caught himself before he could get a proper grip; instead, he curled his fingers into the blanket. Safe, safe, safe. Touching was too dangerous.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" he demanded in a frustrated hiss.

It was like she had been zapped; realisation must have finally kicked in and an odd sound escaped her lips. She slid off him in a graceless scramble. The loss of her weight and warmth made him want to grab for her again, but he resisted the impulse. This was what he had wanted—what he needed to stay in control.

"Wha-what?" she stammered. "Why aren't you on your side of the bed? How did we—what's going on?"

"Are you kidding me?" He sat up and created a ball of flames. "Take a look for yourself!"

The light cast a golden hue around them. Just as expected, Katara was nowhere near the edge she had claimed and had rolled his way during the night. What he hadn't anticipated was that he had done the same. They weren't even on his side; they were in the middle of the bed, both having sought each other in their sleep.

His cheeks heated. "Oh."

There was an awkward pause as they both digested the truth of the situation. Her eyes met his—so much darker than usual. He almost regretted creating the fire for light, because now there were no shadows to veil her from view. He could see the flush on her cheeks, the way she moistened her bottom lip—so agitated, so exposing. A part of her robe had slipped down her shoulder, baring umber skin and the soft curve of her breasts. No wrappings this time. Just the thought made a shock of arousal pass through him. Her breathing sounded too loud, or maybe that was his. Spirits knew he could barely think of anything except that she was too close, his heart was pounding, and all he wanted was to kiss her hard and push her down against the bed.

Zuko swallowed. "This was a bad idea."

The words were soft and slipped free before he could stop them. Katara leaned forward slightly, still holding his gaze. He could feel her breath on his lips.

"This was a really, really bad idea," she agreed.

The way she looked at him in that moment was too much of an invitation. Too close. Too tempting. He tore his gaze away from her mouth before he did something stupid—like actually kiss her.

"Let's—" he cleared his throat to ease the sudden thickness choking his voice "—let's just make sure we don't cross to each other's side again."

And though his body hated him for it, Zuko purposely turned his back on her. He let out a deep breath. It was like coming up for air after almost drowning—a gulping sense of relief. Of course he wasn't in the clear yet—his heart was still pounding and desire still thrummed through every inch of him—but he couldn't see her now. He could think a little clearer.

Zuko grabbed his pillow and placed it on the middle of the bed to create a barrier. Then he lay back down on the edge. Without glancing at her, he snuffed out the ball of flames he had been maintaining. Darkness surrounded them once more. Katara didn't move at first, but then he felt the mattress dip as she crawled back to her own spot on the other side. Both exhaled a long sigh in unison. It was awkward. He wondered if she was just as frustrated as him: if her body protested just as much at this enforced separation; if she also heard the whisper to just wrench the pillow away and roll on top of him, as he wanted to do to her, and to kiss and touch and let their bodies become one.

He wondered if her heart was also pounding and pounding and pounding, like it could never beat at a normal rate again.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. He bit his lip and stared into the darkness, still keeping his back facing Katara. He knew, judging from her sighs and restless shifting, that it was a long, long time before either of them fell asleep.

 **oOo**

"You look terrible."

Zuko just glared at Sokka as he headed for the inner garden and courtyard.

"Sheesh." Sokka made a big show of rolling his eyes. "Someone is cranky."

There was a cackle from behind. "What's the problem, Sunshine? Didn't get much sleep?"

Zuko actually contemplated grabbing the little brat by her robe and tossing her far, far away. Instead, he breathed deeply through his nose and forced himself to calm down. It wasn't Toph's fault that he was feeling very tired and sexually frustrated, even if it had been her idea to make him and Katara share a bed for their safety. He quickened his pace so that he didn't have to walk with either of them.

"He didn't answer," Sokka stage whispered, loud enough so Zuko could hear. "I guess you were right: things must have got a little too _steamy_ for him to handle." Then he laughed. "Steamy. Oh, that was a good one. You know, because he's a firebender and Katara is a—"

Zuko swung around to scowl at them. "Would you two idiots shut up?"

Sokka and Toph cracked identical grins. Zuko just made a frustrated sound and continued walking. He passed through a set of double doors and came to the sheltered walkway that rimmed the courtyard. He couldn't see his uncle anywhere, which grated, but then a faint commotion caught his attention. There were two groups of men having what looked like a heated discussion. One side was led by Hisao and that little weaselrat, Tanaka, who always followed the wispy-bearded minister around; the others were a mix of older and younger men known to be some of Zuko's more vocal supporters. Zuko, to his shame, hadn't had much contact with any of them.

He froze. Sokka bumped into him from behind, too busy mocking the older teen with Toph to pay attention to where he had been walking.

"What's up?" Sokka asked.

Zuko's brow creased. Without explaining, he moved closer to the group. Their words got clearer as he got within earshot.

"Fire Lord Zuko is just a child," Hisao said in his horrible, nasally voice. "What he needs is proper guidance; the boy knows nothing about politics and seems to be more comfortable fighting than giving speeches."

"What's wrong with that?" an ex-general who'd been summoned out of retirement retorted. "Namby pamby words never got anything done anyway."

"Of course you would say that, Chan," someone retorted from behind Tanaka. "You can't do anything without setting something on fire."

Chan shrugged, not at all offended by this assessment of his character.

Hisao looked down his nose at all of them. "My point is that our new Fire Lord is relying on his uncle for advice. I, for one, am not satisfied with that. It's obvious that Iroh has lost his touch. To think, he would actually _encourage_ a union between our Fire Lord and some nobody Water Tribe slut."

There were a few murmurs at this comment; tension had always existed between the nations. Someone felt the need to point out that Katara was the Avatar's waterbending master and was supposed to be some kind of chieftain's daughter; in short, she wasn't _that_ much of a nobody. Another person coughed and said he was under the impression the two had only got engaged because Fire Lord Zuko had got the girl pregnant. Better to keep her close than to have a half-Water Tribe bastard running around who could potentially inherit the throne.

A hand touched Zuko's arm. "Hey," Toph said in a surprisingly calming voice—at least for her. "Chill."

Zuko realised then that he'd been clenching his teeth so hard they felt like they were going to snap; he'd even left wound-like crescents on his palms. It was a good thing Toph had got his attention then, because a second later would have seen him losing it completely and just going off at all of the officials. That would have definitely given them something to talk about.

"Those bastards," Sokka gritted out, clearly struggling as much as Zuko. "Who do they think they are talking about my sister like that?"

Zuko stepped forward to break up the discussion—and try his best to be dignified about it. He couldn't afford to lose his temper. Then one of the younger men near Minister Chan spoke up.

"It is not up to you or anyone else to decide who Fire Lord Zuko should marry," the younger man said sharply to Hisao. "Besides, we have all heard the stories of Lady Katara's deeds; if you bothered to see past her nation and look at what she has actually done, you would realise that she is more than suitable to become our next princess."

"Fine words coming from you," the same man behind Tanaka sneered. "Your brother also died in the massacre of the North. Will you dishonour his memory by supporting that water witch?"

The younger man straightened. "I support Fire Lord Zuko; that is all that matters."

The others started murmuring again, but Zuko had heard enough. He walked up to them and cleared his throat, drawing all attention. There were a lot of stammers and bows. Minister Chan snickered a little, obviously enjoying how flustered everyone was to find the subject of their gossip standing in front of them. Zuko remembered that Chan had been one of Iroh's good friends in the past. Somehow, the fact didn't surprise him now.

"Fire Lord Zuko," Hisao greeted in his awful voice. His gaze shifted to take in the two figures standing behind Zuko. "I see you are accompanied by Miss Beifong and the Water Tribe boy today."

"That's Sokka to you," Sokka cut in rudely. He paused. "Or Lord Sokka. Katara is my sister, you know, and she's going to be Zuko's wife soon, so you better show some respect."

He got a forced smile for his efforts. "My mistake," Hisao said, dipping his head in a tiny bow. "Lord Sokka."

Zuko resisted the urge to facepalm. Instead, he met each of their gazes with a hard expression and ordered the men to return to their duties. He was sure that they all had important things that they should be doing. No one dared to argue. Young or not, Zuko was still the Fire Lord and they had no choice but to listen and obey.

He watched the group bow to him and go their separate ways. Only the younger man who had spoken up for him and Katara did not make any motion to leave. Zuko's brow creased.

"What is it?" he asked. "Do you have something you wish to say?"

A part of him was still fuming at all he had overheard, but at least this guy had been supportive. Zuko had some patience to spare for him.

The man bowed low. "Forgive me, Fire Lord Zuko. I know it is not appropriate for me to be speaking to you like this, but—"

Zuko waved his hand in a dismissive manner, as if to brush aside the formalities that dictated the other's rank was too low to make him worth a Fire Lord's notice. "It's fine. Just say what you want to say."

The man took courage and straightened from his bow. "My name is Yuji. I—I have wanted to apologise to Fire Lord Zuko for a long time now."

"Apologise?" Zuko's frown deepened _._ The man's face seemed very familiar, but he was almost a hundred percent certain that they'd never spoken to each other before. "What for?"

Yuji lowered his gaze. "Perhaps you remember my older brother. He was made an admiral before he died in the North."

Zuko felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Now he understood why Yuji seemed so familiar; they had the same brown eyes and square-ish jaw.

"Zhao," Zuko said softly.

Yuji nodded. "My brother was an over-ambitious fool. I heard he caused many problems for you during your, uh, banishment."

Zuko's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You could say that."

Zhao had tried to have him assassinated by hiring pirates to blow up his ship, though Zuko couldn't imagine that was the kind of news Zhao would have wanted spread. Yuji was probably referring to the Agni Kai they'd fought at the naval base, or maybe all the times Zhao had used his authority to block Zuko's path and get in the way of his quest to capture the Avatar. In truth, Zuko had hated Zhao more than anyone else during that time. Still, it was with mixed feelings that he thought of the man now.

Zhao had been an idiot; he had tried to kill the Moon Spirit and had ended up bringing the wrath of the spirits upon him and the Fire Nation navy. Yet Zuko had never quite forgotten the image of the admiral getting snatched up by a giant, glowing hand and disappearing for good.

Would things have ended any differently had Zhao just accepted his hand?

"You have no need to apologise," Zuko said, pushing aside the troubling memories.

"But—"

"Your brother was his own person," Zuko said simply, "just as you are you. We earn our own honour and dishonour; there's no need for you to carry the burden of Zhao's choices."

Yuji bowed low. "Fire Lord Zuko is too generous."

Zuko dismissed the compliment and stated that he was only speaking the truth. If Yuji wanted to be useful, he should focus on serving the people instead of worrying about things that were never his responsibility to apologise for in the first place. All Zuko cared about was setting things right and getting the Fire Nation through this difficult time so they could flourish once again.

"We are all servants to the people," Zuko finished. "Let us serve them together."

Yuji bowed once more and murmured his agreement. Zuko nodded to dismiss the man and then turned back to face Sokka and Toph—the former of whom looked a bit slack-jawed and a like a fish out of water.

"What?" Zuko said, scrunching his brow.

"Nothing," Sokka replied, pulling himself together. "I just forget sometimes how Fire Lordy you can be when you want."

"Uh, thanks, I guess."

Toph punched Zuko on the arm. "Good job, Sunshine. Gramps would be proud with how you handled that."

Zuko felt a stirring of warmth in his chest. He wondered if Iroh would have been proud. Zuko was aware he was young, quick to anger, and struggled to express himself on the best of days; Hisao hadn't been wrong in saying he didn't know what he was doing a lot of the time. It was just a fact. But Zuko did love the Fire Nation. He wanted to make this work—to prove he was worthy of the title he now carried.

He had made so many mistakes. This time, he wanted to do things right.


	9. Second Attempt

**Second Attempt**

Morning sickness had reared its ugly head again. Katara didn't make it to a chamber pot this time; instead, the vomit got all over the front of her tunic and in her hair. The smell was awful. It was a reminder that she needed to clean herself up, but all she did was sit on the floor like an upset child. She was too tired. Far, far too tired. She was definitely not in the mood for this.

Little tears of frustration stung the corners of her eyes and she placed her hands over her stomach. "Not you too," she muttered. "Can't you just give me a break? Just for today?"

Of course there was no response—not even a fluttery nudge. She was just over seven weeks pregnant. So Katara sat there in the far too big hallway, feeling miserable and quite alone, while nausea made her dry-heave. One of the younger guards found her during his patrol and went off to find a servant who could help. Katara was so much reminded of Sokka fleeing from an unwanted chore that she almost smiled. Except she still felt nauseous, so the fact the guard had abandoned her just ended up making her cross and mutter unflattering things about him.

"Katara?"

She looked up to see Iroh hurrying towards her. Understanding dawned in his eyes when he saw the state she was in, and he made a sympathetic noise.

"Oh dear." He helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you clean. I'll make you some nice ginger tea as well."

"Ginger tea?" She raised her eyebrow in question.

He smiled and patted her arm, not seeming to care that she had sick on her. "My wife got terrible nausea when she was pregnant with our son. The ginger helped."

Katara perked up at the mention of something to ease her morning sickness. Ginger wasn't a plant that grew in the South, so she didn't know much about it. Iroh happily explained about all of its beneficial qualities as he walked with her towards the royal chambers. The young guard met them on the way, now with Mayumi at his side. Iroh told Katara he would get started on the tea while she got cleaned up. They parted ways, leaving Katara to be ushered into the bathing room by Mayumi.

"You don't need to do all this," Katara tried to say.

She had been so out of sorts earlier, but now that someone was actually trying to help her, she felt like she was somehow putting Mayumi out. Katara wasn't used to being waited upon by a servant; it felt wrong somehow. Or maybe it was just that Gran-Gran's teachings had been ingrained into her a little too much, and now she just felt silly for not cleaning the sick off herself. Just because she was tired and frustrated didn't mean that she should act like a useless lump.

"Lady Katara is Fire Lord Zuko's important guest," Mayumi said in a low voice. "I would be failing my duty if I did not tend to you now."

"But—"

Mayumi dared to meet her gaze. "Please allow me to assist you."

Katara's protests died on her lips. Perhaps it was because the normally timid maid had actually spoken over top of her; perhaps because she realised Mayumi was trying to return the favour in her own way for the healing Katara had performed last night. So Katara didn't argue any further. Instead, she nodded and let the servant remove her sick-covered clothes and then dress her in a light robe. Mayumi was quiet as she worked, her touch barely noticeable as she unfastened and fastened ties with practiced ease. Then she sat Katara down on a chair in front of a basin filled with water and began to wash the sick out of her hair.

"That feels nice," Katara couldn't help but murmur.

Mayumi continued to comb her fingers through the wet strands, gentle and soothing. "Is Lady Katara feeling better now?"

Katara sighed and closed her eyes. "A little, but it comes and goes. I still feel nauseous."

"You … can't heal yourself?"

"Not for this." Katara's brow furrowed. "I've tried again and again, but it's just not very effective. I don't know if it's because the nausea throws off my concentration too much or what, but it's annoying."

Like how she couldn't just bend the sick away when she was too busy vomiting and feeling miserable; that was a major pain. Still, she supposed it was no different than when she got cramps or a cold. Her healing abilities weren't a magic fix; sometimes she just had to deal with her body not being in top form.

Mayumi didn't say anything in response at first, but then she seemed to hesitate a little. "You should try ginger."

Katara blinked. "What?"

"Ginger," Mayumi repeated. "It's good for nausea. You can put it in tea if you like."

Katara stilled. She had not expected Mayumi to offer up such advice; the servant always seemed so concerned with just being quiet and doing her duty. A soft smile curved Katara's lips, and she twisted around to face the older woman.

"That's what Iroh said," she observed. "It really works then?"

Mayumi nodded. "It will help, though you shouldn't have too much of it."

"Thanks. I'll try that."

Mayumi murmured that she was only trying to do her duty and continued to wash Katara's hair. Perhaps Katara might have even believed the gesture had meant nothing had she not noticed Mayumi's moment of hesitation before speaking. For whatever reason, Mayumi had not been sure if it was okay for her to explain about the ginger; that also meant her decision to do so was because she had sincerely wanted to help.

Katara tried to draw the woman into conversation again, but she only got monosyllabic replies. Eventually, she gave up. Mayumi finished washing her hair and then styled it for her before bringing out a new, clean dress. Of course it was all in red shades; the only other hint of colour was the gold trim. Katara plucked at the fabric with her fingers. The cloth was very fine—fit for a princess, really—but it still made her purse her lips.

"Is something wrong?" Mayumi asked.

Katara let the fabric slip from her fingers. "I think I'll just wear my own clothes. I can clean them with my bending now that my nausea has settled a little."

Mayumi was not impressed with this suggestion. She pointed out that just removing the sick would not fully clean the cloth. Katara stared at the servant for a moment before she sighed and allowed herself to be clothed in the red dress. She knew her reluctance to wear it had been born from illogical instincts anyway. It was just an urge to cling to any scrap of blue. Being tired and dealing with all the constant strain of her situation had made her overly sensitive; she found comfort in the colour of her home. But Mayumi was right: it would be silly to wear something that still carried the sour scent of vomit and was all worn down from travel and constant use.

Katara stood with her arms raised as the burgundy-coloured sash was wrapped around her middle and pulled into a complicated bow. The dress was pretty, she supposed. Not quite as complicated and multi-layered as Zuko's daily attire, but it was obvious that it had been designed for a woman of high rank. She appreciated the long, loose sleeves that allowed a nice flow of air circulation. For all that the dress covered everything and seemed like it would be too hot to wear, it really was quite light and breezy.

Mayumi stepped back and bowed to show she was finished. Katara thanked her and then exited the room. The young guard was waiting and said he would take her to Iroh. They ended up in the garden with the cherry tree and turtleduck pond. A table with two chairs had been set up on the grassy area. Iroh sat on one of the chairs and gestured for her to take the other. Katara sat down and watched as he poured her some tea from the elegant teapot.

"Thank you," she mumbled, accepting the offered cup.

The ginger tea had a strange taste, but it wasn't bad. She kept sipping at the drink.

"You look lovely, by the way," Iroh said with a smile. "I almost felt like I was looking at Ursa when you first walked in."

"Ursa?"

"Zuko's mother," Iroh explained. "She was a beautiful woman."

Katara noted the past tense. She remembered that Zuko had confided he had lost his mother when he was young. Such a strange conversation that had been. Hushed, vulnerable. She had seen a different side of him that day—back when they had both been imprisoned by Azula in the catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se. Of course, then he'd betrayed her and sided with his sister and almost got Aang killed, but for that tiny moment they had connected. For that tiny moment, she had wanted to help him—to ease any pain that she could in his heart.

"What happened to his mother?" Katara asked.

Zuko had never gone into detail; she'd got the sense he wasn't even sure himself. All he'd said was that his mother had disappeared one day and that was it. He'd never seen her again.

Iroh's smile faded. "I'm afraid I don't know. I was not in the Fire Nation at the time." His eyes softened. "But I think if she had been given the chance to meet you, she would have liked you."

Katara frowned at the cup of tea in her hands. She wasn't so sure about that—not when she knew how poorly she had and still sometimes did treat Zuko—but she didn't try to refute the claim. Instead, they were both quiet for a moment until Iroh broke the silence to ask how she was feeling.

"Alright, I suppose," she said, running her finger over the rim of the cup. "The tea is helping."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Katara avoided his gaze. He didn't have to say the words for her to hear his unspoken question: how was she _really_ doing? Never mind the morning sickness. He wanted to know the state of her mind, her heart. Too bad she didn't even know the answer to those questions.

Iroh gave her a shrewd look, but he did not push the issue. Instead, quite different words came out of his mouth. "Have you ever played Pai Sho, Katara?"

She blinked. "Pai Sho? You mean that game with the tiles?"

A smile spread across his lips. The next thing she knew, some servants were setting up a Pai Sho board on the table at which she and Iroh sat. Katara remembered the giant Pai Sho room at the Western Air Temple; Aang had been very excited about it. Apparently, the game had originated from the Air Nomads and had been spread all over the world. Now, it was popular in all of the nations, though it didn't seem to have caught on in her tribe. Maybe once people had played it there, before all the raids and depopulation, but not now. She'd never played the game—didn't even know the rules.

Iroh taught her about the different tiles and how she could use them on the board. Katara found it difficult to keep track of everything. Fortunately, he was a patient teacher and seemed genuinely happy to explain as many times as needed. They had just started to play a game together when Zuko turned up, golden headpiece glinting in the sun. Her body stirred at the sight of him—all flutters and quickening heartbeats. It didn't help that he just stopped and stared at her for a moment. The weight of his gaze made her feel oddly self-conscious. She scratched her cheek and fidgeted with her sleeve.

"Oh, there you are, Nephew."

Zuko blinked and tore his gaze away from her to look at the older man. His usual frown tugged at his mouth. "What do you mean there I am? You were the one who said to come to the courtyard. I waited for you for ages."

Iroh let out an apologetic chuckle. "I'm afraid I got distracted."

"I can see that," was the unimpressed response. "I should have known you'd just be here playing this stupid game."

"Now, Nephew, I would have thought you'd have realised by now that Pai Sho is no ordinary game."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I know you and your old man club have some secret little thing going on with these tiles, but this isn't the time for games, Uncle. We're supposed to be—"

"Doesn't Katara look lovely today?" Iroh cut in.

Katara choked on her own phlegm; she had not anticipated her looks suddenly becoming the focal point of the conversation. Her cheeks warmed as Zuko's gaze once more shifted to her—especially since she couldn't stop coughing. The corners of his mouth lifted a fraction. Ugh, he was laughing at her; she just knew it.

"Well?" Iroh prompted. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Zuko's eyes widened and he glanced at his uncle in what almost looked like panic; it seemed he had not expected to actually have to give an answer. His face took on a pinkish tone and he tugged at his collar. Katara thought it served him right for being amused by her coughing fit.

"Ah, um, yeah," he mumbled, pointedly looking in the other direction. "You, um, look nice."

Her stomach fluttered. She wasn't even sure why since that was probably the most awkward compliment she had ever received, but flutter it did. Then again, last night had been a nightmare of tension and temptation. She remembered how close they had come—the way his gaze had dropped to her lips while he'd held a flame for light; the way her heart had pounded as she'd leaned even closer, wanting him to close the gap.

Zuko cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, still avoiding looking at her, "you said we had things to discuss, Uncle, so—"

"Oh, never mind that now," Iroh said, waving his hand. "I can handle it myself. Why don't you stay here and play a game of Pai Sho with Katara?"

"That's really not—" Zuko and Katara began in unison.

They broke off and glanced at each other in surprise. Iroh chuckled and got to his feet.

"Come now, I insist," Iroh said, and then grabbed his nephew by the shoulders and forced him onto the vacated chair. "It will be good for you."

Both teenagers tried to protest, but Iroh wasn't hearing any of their excuses. He got Zuko to stay put by revealing that Katara had not been feeling well and that it was Zuko's responsibility, as her fiancé, to keep her company; then Iroh got Katara to stay put by admitting to her in an undertone that Zuko had been working himself too hard, and Iroh would be grateful if she could keep the stubborn boy occupied for a while. Zuko never took breaks unless forced.

That wily old man. He just had to go and use their sense of duty against them.

A long and uncomfortable silence followed once Iroh had left. Katara bit her lip and looked down at her empty teacup. She could hear faint splashes from the pond where the turtleducks were swimming. One of the firebenders on guard coughed. It was really, really awkward.

 _Just say something,_ an inner voice screamed. _You'll only reveal how much he unsettles you if you don't._

Katara shot him a glance from under her lashes and felt her breath catch when their eyes met. Both quickly looked away from each other again. She hated that her heart quickened. He always made her feel so weak and like she had no sense of control over her body—not even now when he just looked like a flustered, tongue-tied dork. It wasn't fair.

"So," Zuko said slowly, daring to break the silence. "Uncle said you weren't feeling well. Are you alright? I heard you weren't well yesterday either."

She almost sighed in relief. Thank the spirits he had said something. With feigned nonchalance, she picked up one of the tiles and smoothed her thumb over the flower carving. "It's because of the baby," she confided.

He straightened as if struck. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

She was startled into a laugh. He looked so pale and worried. "It's just morning sickness," Zuko. It's normal."

His shoulders relaxed and his cheeks coloured for quite a different reason. "Oh," he said, obviously embarrassed.

Katara had to bite back a smile. He frustrated her a lot; that never seemed to change. Still, she couldn't deny that the more she was around him—the more he showed her this very awkward, very teenage boy side of himself—the more she also realised that he could be a bit endearing. Just a little. At the least, he'd softened her mood enough into getting her to want to make an effort, if only this once.

She let out a breath and placed the tile flat on the table. "Well," she said, raising her eyebrow at him in challenge, "shall we take up your uncle's suggestion and play then?"

His brow furrowed. "You want to play Pai Sho with me?"

"Why not?" She leaned forward on her elbow and a hint of a smirk curved her lips. "Or are you worried I'll beat you?"

Zuko made a scoffing sound. "Don't get cocky, waterbender. There's no way you're going to beat me."

"Oh, so it's 'waterbender' again, is it?"

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth. Katara told herself that she absolutely did not find him attractive—even if her stomach did start up those frustrating flutters again.

"Let's just play," she said a bit more gruffly.

Zuko nodded and helped her to clear the board. She started the game using the white lotus tile that Iroh had recommended. Zuko raised his eyebrow at that and muttered something about his uncle, but he didn't accept the gambit. How frustrating. She stared at the piece he used and struggled to remember its properties when placed on that square. All the rules were getting jumbled in her head—not helped by the fact she could feel his eyes on her. He seemed content to watch her as he sat with his chin resting on his palm, just waiting for her to make her move.

"Problem?" he asked.

She raised her chin. "No."

Katara put a tile down at random. Zuko didn't even hesitate as he put down his own piece to claim her tile. She pursed her lips. Well, that hadn't worked. The hint of amusement flickering in his eyes didn't help to ease her irritation either. It was like a ruffling touch to set her feathers the wrong way. Her competitive nature kicked in and she tried to focus more so she could win. The odd thing was that the more she tried to figure out Zuko's strategy, the less clear his moves seemed. A suspicion began to grow in her mind.

"You're not even thinking about this, are you?" she finally demanded. "I swear you're just putting tiles down wherever!"

That crooked little smile of his slipped back into play. "I've never liked Pai Sho," he admitted. "Uncle used to force me to play it with him a lot when I was younger, but it just seemed like a waste of time. I didn't care to learn all the strategies."

She huffed in disgust. All that time she'd been trying to be sneaky and figure out his plan, and he hadn't even had one.

"Who's the cocky one now?" she muttered. "Acting all big and like you were going to win; I bet you don't even know what you're doing much either."

He shrugged. "I can still beat you."

"Oh, really?" She leaned forward and met his gaze. "You want to bet?"

The flicker of amusement came back to his eyes. "You're taking this pretty seriously, Katara. So determined to win?"

Her stomach fluttered again, stirred by the teasing lilt to his voice. Just the way he looked at her and said her name filled her with an odd mix of feelings: too pleasant to be on edge, yet there was an undeniable sense of restlessness. Or was that exhilaration? He made her feel so confused and upside down.

Something flickered in the corner of her vision. Katara's eyes widened. In a flash, she was on her feet and tugging at the water in the pond. Zuko went absolutely still. Inches from his back was now a wall of ice and buried inside that, in perfect alignment with his neck, was the steel tip of an arrow. A breath escaped his lips. Katara's heart pounded as their eyes met. She had just saved him— _again_.

"Protect the Fire Lord!"

The guards who had been near ran for them. One of the men got hit in the leg before he could reach them, and then it was like he struggled to even move his limbs. The arrow must have been coated in some kind of substance to cause paralysis. Zuko cursed and pressed up against her side, half shielding her as he moved them both towards the tree for cover while frantically scanning the walls for his would-be assassin. The fact he was even trying to use his body to protect her was ridiculous; he was the one being targeted.

"Get behind me!" Katara hissed, shoving him back.

Zuko looked like he was going to argue, but then more arrows came: one, two, three—too many, and all aimed with frightening accuracy. Katara seized hold of every scrap of water she could sense and swept her arms around in a fast yet graceful motion, finishing with her fingers curled like claws. As planned, a curving barrier of ice stopped the arrows. Then she caught a glimpse of something red moving up above—the colour almost but not quite blending into the rooftop that overlooked the garden.

"There!" she cried.

Zuko brushed past her in a blur. She called out to him, reaching for him, but her fingers grabbed only air. The guards shot flames at the intruder, even as Zuko ripped through his robes with a burning fist so that he was left wearing his undershirt and pants so as to move more freely. Katara's heart got stuck in her throat. Seeing him dart up the wall and swing himself onto the roof like a monkey-spider reminded her that he had been the Blue Spirit once; he made it look so effortless, but that didn't stop the fear from spiking through her veins. He was heading straight for the person who wanted to kill him, and there was no one to support him.

"Zuko, stop!" she yelled.

 _Please!_

The cry ripped through her chest, like it was trying to claw out through her ribs and find utterance. But it didn't. Instead, she ran after him and used her bending to boost herself up onto the roof in pursuit. All she could see in her mind was the image of him convulsing with poison; she saw echoes from her nightmares—his lifeless body, his unseeing eyes never to burn with warmth again.

No. No, no, no. She couldn't let that happen.

Katara slipped on the tiles but then quickly regained her balance. The assassin was up ahead, sprinting for the edge and no doubt planning to jump to the next tiered roof; Zuko followed close behind while gongs went off in the background, sounding the alarm. He cut off the assassin's path with a fireball, forcing the person to veer to the right. Katara's breath came faster as she tried to catch up.

"I won't let you get away!" Zuko growled.

Streams of fire lashed out from his hands like water whips, threatening to knock over and latch onto the assassin. His opponent must have anticipated the attack, because suddenly the assassin was somersaulting through the air, masked face hiding all expression as an arrow was nocked and let loose. Zuko threw himself to the side to dodge the sharpened point. With more speed than she thought humanely possible, the assassin got another arrow ready.

"Stop!" Katara screamed.

The person froze. Her heart thudded against her ribs as shadowed eyes fixed on her and she found herself confronted by the mask: a horrible thing that was as blood-red as the clothes the assassin donned, with two horns protruding from its head like a demon and a snarling mouth. It was like looking into a face of uncontrollable rage, and yet—and yet, with those sloping eyes, there was something almost sad about the mask's expression as well. Maybe it wasn't snarling; maybe it was just screaming. An endless scream of endless torment.

 _Why are you just standing there?_ a voice inside her demanded. _Fight!_

Zuko took advantage of the assassin's distraction and twisted back to his feet, crafting flames to shadow his movement and push out in a force of heat. There was a soft grunt as the assassin was knocked off balance. Both teens made to close in, but then something small clinked against the roof between them. Light burst forth with a bang. Katara cried out and raised her hand to shield against the brightness, even as smoke began to surround them in a choking cloud. When the smoke dissipated and the disorientation wore off, the assassin was gone and only she and Zuko were left on the roof.

"Damn it," Zuko cursed under his breath. "I can't believe he got away."

Katara walked straight up to him and hit him hard in the chest. He stumbled a little, unprepared for her attack, and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Ka-Katara, what—"

"You reckless idiot!" she yelled, hitting him again. "Why did you run off on your own? Why didn't you just wait for us?"

"He was going to get away and—"

"You could have _died_!"

Zuko swallowed. Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath. Her eyes were stinging. Something shifted in his expression and he took a step closer.

"Hey," he said more gently. "It's okay. We're both okay."

"It's not okay!" She shook her head and balled her hands into fists. "Someone wants to kill you, Zuko! They've almost succeeded twice now, and I just—how can you just—"

His hands came to rest on her shoulders—albeit hesitantly, as if he worried she would shove him off—but even then his touch was warm. The contact made her still; made her feel like she had grabbed hold of an anchor. She realised she had been trembling.

"It's okay," he repeated. His eyes sought hers, and she was struck by the softness of his expression. "Look, I'm fine. I'm not hurt at all."

"But you could have been!"

"But I wasn't." One of his hands moved up to cup her face. "You saved me, Katara. Maybe you're right I was too reckless, but you were there when I needed it. I'm safe because of you." He let out a breath and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Thank you. I really owe you one."

Her heart quickened. For some reason it felt like she was standing on a precipice—just balancing on the edge with her arms spread wide. If she fell, there would be no coming back.

Katara held his gaze for a moment longer and then shook her head, slipping out of his grasp. "Idiot," she grumbled. "Just stop being so reckless. I won't forgive you if you get yourself killed."

She didn't wait for his response and created a slide of ice so she could get off the roof. The palace soldiers would continue the search for the assassin; all she cared about was putting some space between her and the boy whose touch left her heart pounding. Too many emotions were pressing at the lid of her control, desperate to find release—to cry out in raw vulnerability.

He made her feel so much.

Zuko followed her to the ground where they were both soon surrounded by guards. The mood was sombre as the men bowed and apologised to Zuko for not being able to protect him. One even pulled out a dagger and offered to commit suicide for his failure. The others, not wanting to be outdone, did the same.

"Don't do that," Zuko said hastily, making a grab for the closest guard and snatching the dagger from him.

"But we have dishonoured—"

"Your lives are worth more than some stupid sense of honour!" Zuko made a frustrated sound and threw the dagger so the tip buried itself into the grass. "I don't want to hear any of you talk about this again, got it? There will be no more honour suicides; if you feel ashamed, then just—just do your duty and try to be better."

The guards all looked a bit at a loss. Katara wondered if it was because they were not used to going against tradition or if they just hadn't expected their Fire Lord to get upset on their behalf. Zuko pressed his palm to his forehead.

"Look," he said a bit tiredly, "what happened today wasn't your fault. None of us expected the attack. What's important is that no one was killed." He lowered his hand and glanced at the guard who had been shot with an arrow. "How's your leg, Kenta? No serious damage?"

The guard—who seemed a bit startled to be called upon by name—straightened and stammered that the arrow didn't appear to have hit anything vital. He'd be sore for a while, but once the arrow was removed, he was sure he'd recover.

"I can just heal you now," Katara offered. "If it's like you say, I should be able to fix it straight away."

"Y-you can really do that?" Kenta asked in wide-eyed wonder.

She smiled and gestured for him to come closer. Kenta waited for a nod of approval from Zuko—which only seemed to exasperate the young Fire Lord even more—before he dared to obey and settle down on the grass. She knelt in front of him and explained that they would need to remove the arrow first before she could do anything. Fortunately, the arrow had gone clean through his leg, so it looked as if they didn't have to worry about bones or any finicky things like the tip getting bent or breaking off inside him. Still, it was going to hurt when she took out the shaft.

Katara glanced up at the other firebenders. "Could someone—"

Zuko knelt next to her and held Kenta down, understanding without even being asked what was needed. She swallowed but accepted his help without question. The guards were less thrilled at his willingness to assist, including the injured Kenta. They all seemed to think Zuko was lowering himself too much—that such an act was beneath his station as Fire Lord.

"Oh, enough!" Zuko snapped. "You're only injured because of me anyway, so just shut up and sit still and let Katara get the arrow out!" He threw a glare at the other guards. "That goes for all of you as well!"

Again, the men looked a bit at a loss, though this time it was because Zuko had treated them to his unfiltered temper. Katara would have found it funny had the situation been different. Zuko had been trying so hard to appear like a dignified Fire Lord that his subjects now found it strange when he got grumpy. Still, his little outburst was a reminder that he was as hot-tempered and impatient as ever.

Katara met his gaze. "Ready?"

Zuko nodded. She told Kenta to relax and then summoned water to her hand so she could slice off the feathered end of the arrow, severing the wood close to the wound so the remaining bit of shaft was as short as possible. One part down. Now she just had to pull it out. Her mouth went a bit dry—she wasn't as experienced with this as she'd made herself out to be—but the hands pinning the man down reminded her that Zuko was right there with her. His eyes met hers again, a little questioning but also trusting. He knew she could do this. Katara swallowed and took a firm grip on the shaft, careful to avoid the bloodied arrowhead. There was a chance the metal was still tainted.

"On three," she murmured.

Kenta squeezed his eyes shut. Zuko held her gaze and counted under his breath with her. Then she pulled. A cry was wrenched out of the guard and he gave a reflexive jerk, but Zuko kept him and his injured leg steady. Katara exhaled when the last of the shaft passed through the exit wound. She dropped the bloodied piece of wood and quickly summoned fresh water to her hands. Even if they'd got the arrow out, it was the chance of infection that posed the real threat.

Zuko released Kenta and sat back to give her more space. She used her bending to tap into the man's chi, easing the inflammation caused by the arrow and getting rid of anything that could cause difficulties later. It was tedious work—even more so when she began knitting his skin together. Waterbending healing—at least the kind that didn't involve Spirit Oasis water—really wasn't a magic fix. Still, it was better than nothing.

"That should do it," Katara said, pulling her hands away.

Kenta tested his leg by moving it up and down. He winced.

"It'll still feel a bit stiff and tender," Katara warned him. "I've only sped up the healing process, but at least this way you're over the worst of it."

Kenta didn't mind this at all and began thanking her over and over. Then he seemed to realise he was neglecting his Fire Lord, and he quickly turned to thank Zuko as well. Zuko didn't seem interested in receiving any gratitude and pointed out that he had done nothing out of the ordinary; it was Katara who was the healer and who had protected them all from the arrows. She was the one who deserved their thanks. No one felt the need to refute this claim; instead, all five of the guards turned as one and bowed low to her in the deepest sign of respect.

Her breath caught a little.

She had witnessed towns upon towns of people praise Aang for his deeds. Very rarely had that respect been directed to her—certainly not on the same level. The attention she had received had often felt like more of an afterthought because she just happened to be there and she was the Avatar's companion. It was like her actions had become a part of his own. Sometimes, people even seemed to just take her healing for granted. The river town she'd helped while disguised as the Painted Lady were happy with what she had done for them, but that didn't mean they'd showered her with praise or wanted to bow to her—not after they'd realised she was just an ordinary girl.

Back then, it hadn't bothered her. It still didn't in many ways; Aang was an extraordinary person, after all, and she didn't choose to fight or heal because she wanted people to admire her. It was just her nature to help. Still, here five grown men stood bowing low to her. They acknowledged _her_. Not because of Aang, not even because she was the Fire Lord's fiancée; it was because she had earned their respect all on her own. She had to admit it was kind of nice.

Zuko's eyes met hers and she felt her stomach flutter a little at the way he looked at her. His expression was very warm. It was like a caress slipping along her skin, whispering of gratitude and affection and maybe a hint of pride that she, a person who was not from the Fire Nation, had gone out of her way for his people—even earned their admiration and loyalty.

A shout came from behind, shattering the moment. Katara blinked and turned to see more soldiers arriving with Iroh and Sokka. Then all everyone could talk about was the assassin and what they were going to do to stop such an attack from happening again. The masked archer had escaped. No one had any indication about where the person had come from or even if the assassin was working alone or had been hired. This was a serious problem.

Iroh wrapped the bloodied arrowhead in cloth and said he would run some tests to see if he could pinpoint the substance that had coated the tip—perhaps that would give some clues. He also warned that they would have to be very careful if they ran into the masked assassin again; next time the arrow might not just cause a temporary paralysis.

"It seems we are dealing with a very dangerous, very determined enemy," Iroh told them. "We should all be on our guard."

Katara's brow furrowed. There was something that just niggled about the archer; she couldn't even pinpoint what bothered her. Still, Iroh was right that they would have to be very careful from now on. The second assassination attempt had revealed their enemy was far more skilled than anticipated. Even now, she struggled to believe that all of those arrows she'd blocked had come from one person. Defending against the onslaught had been like fighting multiple foes.

It worried her. It worried her a lot.

Her gaze shifted to Zuko. She knew the attempts to kill him would not stop until the assassin either succeeded or was captured. In her heart, she prayed that it would be the latter that came true. Losing Zuko was not an option. She cared too much now; it was a frustrating, undeniable fact. Somehow, without her even realising it, this stupid boy had snuck under her defences and she didn't know how to force him out again.

She didn't know how to stop these feelings that just kept growing and growing—that threatened to break her if they didn't find expression.

So she would fight. She would do whatever it took to keep him safe, because he needed her, and Katara would rather die herself than let her nightmares come true. No matter what, she would stay by his side.

* * *

This chapter took forever to write and I don't know why.

No night time scene this time (sorry to those who were looking forward to that), but the next chapter should satisfy those Zutara UST cravings. Time to place your bets for who will crack first. Emotions are high, and that means anything can happen. ;)


	10. Acceptance

This chapter is most definitely rated M. I might have done more than dip my toes in the smutty water, but it's not explicit … uh, kind of. Maybe a little. Point is, this will be a steamy chapter and any who are not a fan of the sexy times should get ready to skim. You'll know when you get to the part …

* * *

 **Acceptance**

The moon was a thin crescent in the sky. Katara leaned against one of the pillars that rimmed the courtyard and stared up at the celestial lights—at the stars that scattered the darkness like ocean pearls, illuminating in silvery touches where the waning moon struggled. In a few days there would be no moon at all. She didn't like to think about that. Not after today. Not when her bending had been so integral to keeping Zuko alive.

"Lady Katara, isn't it?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see a man who looked to be in his late twenties standing near the guards on watch. There was something familiar about his features: the square jaw and brown eyes. Her brow furrowed.

"Have we met?" she asked.

He shook his head and confided his name was Yuji. He was an assistant to General Chan, so he was often at the palace to help with the ministerial side of things. They had just finished up a meeting and he was on his way home, but then he'd seen her standing out here. Though he admitted it probably wasn't appropriate for him to approach her, he'd really wanted to thank her for protecting the Fire Lord today. Word of what she had done was spreading all through the Caldera.

A faint smile curved his lips. "It seems you're steadily winning the hearts of the people. Perhaps with this you'll even silence the opposition."

Katara's frown deepened. "Opposition?"

"You didn't know? There are many who have not accepted you or your engagement to Fire Lord Zuko. They want to stop the marriage."

She brushed her hand over her stomach. "I doubt that will happen."

Yuji noticed the motion but did not say anything about her pregnancy. Instead, he bowed to her and requested that she take care of herself. The Fire Nation palace could be a dangerous place, and she had proven a formidable obstacle for those who sought to remove Zuko from the throne. He would hate to see something happen to her.

Katara murmured her thanks and watched him leave. She lingered a moment longer in the courtyard before making her way to the chambers where she and Zuko slept. Soldiers and servants bowed to her as she passed them—something that had been happening more and more often since she had protected Zuko and the royal guards earlier that day. Perhaps Yuji was right: something was changing. Before, people had taken note of her and treated her with a distant sort of respect, but now it was like the barriers had been removed.

Every bow was a pledge of loyalty. Every quiet acknowledgement was a sign to say that she had been accepted.

Katara didn't know how that made her feel. Confused? Happy? She had never tried to win over this nation; she had been too absorbed with her own worries and frustrations, and a part of her had still been bitter that it was the Fire Nation who had taken her mother away and raided her tribe. But now it was like she was just slipping into the role that had been forced upon her. Once she married Zuko, she would become a Fire Nation princess. She would be a leader for these people, and she would stand at Zuko's side as his partner and wife. It was so … strange.

She was still trying to sort through her feelings when she came across Shima and Nobu, who once again stood guard outside the bedroom. Nobu dared to smile at her as he opened the door—just another man with fire-tinted eyes who once would have been her enemy, but now who just reminded her of a protective uncle. Both men murmured greetings to her, which she returned with actual sincerity.

This was going to be her life now. It struck her in that moment: all these servants and officials and guards would surround her, and she would keep on learning their names, and she would not see enemy when she looked into their faces. Maybe she would heal them, as she had done for Kenta; maybe she would try to bring them out of their shells or get advice from them, as she did with Mayumi; maybe she would just trust them, as she did Nobu and Shima. But they would be there with her every day, and she would greet them as she did now, and maybe—maybe there would be no more "her" and "them".

Maybe something was changing for her too.

Katara let out a breath and walked inside the bedroom. She stood still in the centre of the room as the doors were closed behind her. The giant bed dominated as always, but this time she didn't shy from its presence. Instead, her body stirred with a flutter of anticipation. She couldn't fight the feeling—the secret yearning that crept through her and quickened her heartbeat. Zuko would be here soon, and then—then they would lie next to one another again. Then he would be close enough for her to touch if she wanted, and it frightened and excited her a little to realise that she did want that.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to be touched by him.

Her heart pounded—too loud, too fast. It was like being on that precipice all over again, but this time falling didn't seem so bad. Still scary, but not so awful that she wanted to run. And maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay to let go of all that held her back.

Maybe it was okay to just accept.

She swallowed and turned away from the bed so she could get changed inside the dressing area. This time, she did hear when Zuko arrived. His voice was low and seemed to wrap around her, shivering all over her skin. It used to frighten her that he could have such an effect; it still did in a way. She couldn't even see him and he was only talking to the guards, but just the sound of his voice made her come alive.

He really did make her feel so much.

Katara finished securing her robe and then exited through the sliding partition doors. Zuko paused when he saw her, one hand already reaching for the headpiece that was fixed into his topknot. The door to the bedroom was closed now and no servants had come to help him undress. Perhaps it had been assumed again that she would assist him.

Her stomach fluttered a little as she closed the distance between them. He was taller than her, and she had to lean up to grab his hand.

"Let me," she said softly.

Zuko's eyes widened a fraction. He went very still, making no move to free his hand or to pull away from her. Blood pounded in her ears and she swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. Without meeting his gaze, she lowered his arm and then removed the Fire Lord's headpiece from his hair. A tug on the band let the black strands tumble free. He inhaled a sharp breath.

"What are you doing?" he finally dared to ask.

Katara reached for the sash around his middle. "What does it look like?"

His hands stopped her before she could undo the knot. "Wait. I don't—I don't understand. Why are you—why would you—"

"Because I want to." She stepped closer, her heart pounding and pounding, driving her to utter the words she had tried so hard to supress. "Because today I almost lost you and right now I need you to be close to me. I need to feel that you're alive." Her eyes locked with his. "Be with me tonight."

Zuko's chest rose and fell quickly. She could feel the way he trembled, or maybe it was her body that trembled. She honestly didn't know anymore. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding, and his scent and warmth was all around her, and their lips were so, so close, and she was just so tired of fighting this. She was so tired of denying herself what she wanted.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

So he did. His hand released hers to slip into her hair, and then his lips were on hers and it was like everything else just ceased to exist. Her eyelashes fluttered shut and she lost herself in the feel of kissing him: in the way their lips slanted and parted, letting their breath intermingle, letting their tongues brush and caress like the most pleasurable of silk. It was so much sweeter this time. Yet even then she found herself wanting more. Her fingers grazed his robe, latching onto the fabric to pull him closer. She kissed him deeply and steered him towards the bed.

Zuko suddenly gripped her shoulders and held her back. "W-wait," he said a bit breathlessly. "Just—just tell me one thing."

She blinked up at him in confusion.

"If we—if we go through with this, will you regret it?"

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

He gestured between them. "This. Last time you freaked out and I—"

Something twisted in her stomach. Right. She had run away from him, but not before she'd said all those cruel, horrible things. It must have hurt. Oh, who was she kidding? She knew that her actions had upset him a lot. He'd even confessed that he'd felt used by her. Perhaps he worried that she would do the same thing again. That was a sobering thought. She had treated him so awfully that now he doubted her intentions.

Katara took his hand in hers and pressed his knuckles to her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Then she let him go and walked to her side of the bed. Zuko stood motionless for a moment before he was moving in a rush. His fingers latched onto her wrist, tugging her back to face him.

"Z-Zuko, what—"

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. His touch gentled and his eyes sought hers, golden and intense yet somehow so soft. "Will you regret it?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She didn't know what to say. Guilt pressed down on her shoulders—an awful weight that told her of how little she deserved this boy. She had been so very petty and selfish. On top of that, her emotions were all over the place—so much so that she just didn't know how to put everything together to make sense of what she really felt. She wanted him, but was that only because she was scared? Because she had almost lost him today? Because he was attractive and her body yearned to feel his touch again?

"I don't know," she admitted in a low voice. "I—I just—"

She bit her lip, frustrated and not sure how to put her feelings into words.

Zuko stepped closer. "Then how about this," he murmured. "Do you hate me?"

She shook her head.

"Do you—" he swallowed "—do you still want to be with me tonight?"

Her cheeks warmed and she nodded.

He exhaled and released her wrist, but only so he could intertwine their fingers. "Okay." He moved even closer and dipped his head. "Okay."

She didn't understand what he meant until their lips touched. He was kissing her again, and this time it was he who guided her down against the bed. She felt her back hit the coverlet. Her breath came short and fast, even as her legs instinctively spread to give him room. His weight was warm and familiar. It made the blood quicken in her veins; made every inch of her tingle with anticipation. She wanted him. She wanted him so much. It was a relief when he kissed her again—softly, deeply, making her toes curl and her body arch. She felt like she was unravelling.

How had she ever resisted this boy?

Zuko's hands skimmed her thighs, finding purchase on her bare skin; her robe had somehow got pooled around her hips. Not that she minded. His touch felt good, and it felt even better when he wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her closer. Now she could feel him pressing into her—all the hardness of his arousal. Heat pulsed from deep within her, aching and needy. She pressed herself even more against him; kissed his lips, clutched at his back. Too much fabric was getting in the way.

Frustrated, she pulled back so she could tug at the sash around his middle. Zuko helped her to undo the cloth and pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, finding her most sensitive spots. Her fingers trembled and fumbled; he was being very distracting—especially when he reached her collarbone and nudged the silky cloth aside, lips grazing her skin and getting very, very close to her breasts. Her eyelashes fluttered shut—but no. There was still far too much fabric getting in the way of their bodies. She tugged at his clothes, even as she cursed the fact his robes had so many stupid layers and ties.

"Why is this so difficult?" she groaned.

He laughed: a low, boyish sound that took her by surprise for how light and attractive it sounded. He'd never really laughed around her before. Zuko sat up and began to remove each of the layers. It was oddly arousing. His hair got ruffled and his gaze often locked with hers—weighted with promise and anticipation—while he undressed himself. She bit her lip as she watched. When he was down to his undershirt and pants, she shifted to her knees and stopped his hands before he could do the rest. Then she undid the tie and parted the cloth to bare his chest. His body was lean and muscled—perfect like a honed blade—and she couldn't resist letting her fingers explore the hard ridges and planes. He trembled a little. She could almost feel the need building within him, wanting her to go lower.

Their eyes met. Katara gripped his undershirt and kissed him on the mouth, pushing the loosened fabric off his shoulders. She threw it behind her without a care for where it landed. He tried to pull her closer by her hips, but she wriggled away and grabbed his hands to hold him still.

 _Not yet_ , she said through her touch.

Much as she understood his feeling—the need to let their bodies collide where all that heat was now concentrated—there was still one last tie to be removed. So she released his hands and found the knot to his pants. He definitely trembled that time. It made her own heart quicken. They'd only done this once, and everything about this situation was different. In the mural room, it had been all frantic kisses and touches: a clumsy, desperate coming together that had happened so fast she'd barely fathomed afterwards how they'd even ended up naked and joined as one. But here there was none of that. It was like they were discovering each other for the first time: every kiss, every caress, every sensation. She was nervous and excited, and she knew that he was too.

Zuko helped her to remove the last of his clothes—and, yes, she could admit she found herself staring at his obvious arousal. She didn't remember it being that big. Then his fingers brushed her chin and tilted her face up so he could kiss her again: a deep, toe-curling kiss that left her wanting more. So much more. He tugged at the fastening on her robe, and it was as if all the heat pulsing through her intensified. Right. She was still dressed.

He pulled back to meet her gaze. Katara nodded, her heart pounding and pounding. He should have known he didn't need to ask permission. Zuko shifted closer on his knees. His touch was gentle, uncovering her body in an almost reverent way. Goosebumps shivered all over her skin. This was definitely different to how it had been at the Western Air Temple.

He brushed her hair aside so he could place a soft kiss to her shoulder. So, so soft. Then he was guiding her back down against the coverlet. Her breathing fragmented as he leaned over her. She was conscious of her bare breasts—of how utterly exposed she felt as she lay there in full view. It made her want to press her thighs together so at least he couldn't see the dampened curls—to see just how wet she'd already become for him. This was all too real and intimate. But he didn't let her hide from him. Instead, he met her eyes and skimmed the back of his hand against her cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. He'd never said anything like that to her before. She wasn't sure how to react. Not that he gave her a chance. He closed the distance between them and kissed her with aching tenderness. She couldn't resist him—didn't even want to. Then his hand was moving up the inner part of her thigh and she just stopped thinking altogether. His fingers were right _there_. Pleasure sparked all through her, building and building. It was almost frustrating how easily he got her to come undone for him; Zuko was a fast learner, and all he had to do was listen to the soft sounds she made to figure out where and how she liked to be touched.

He got very, very good.

Katara fisted her hand in his hair, even as her hips rolled up in instinctive need. She felt like a string being pulled too taut—exquisitely, unbearably. It was too much. But even then she knew this wasn't quite enough. Her core ached to be filled, to have their bodies connect on a much more intrinsic level. So she dragged his face up to hers and kissed him hard. He didn't protest—not even when she latched her legs around his waist and used her weight to roll them both over so she had him on his back. His chest rose and fell quickly. Looking at him from this angle gave her an odd thrill. His hair was splayed around him in dark strands and his cheeks were flushed. He looked vulnerable and utterly turned on. A fresh spike of heat pooled between her legs.

" _What is it you want from me?"_

His words—the same he had thrown at her so many times—came back to her mind. This time she knew the answer.

She just wanted him. She would always want him.

Katara brushed her fingers against his cheek—an echo of the caress he had given her. She didn't tell him that she thought she might have fallen for him, but she did let him feel all the yearnings of her heart when they became one. It wasn't like she could help herself. Their bodies fit together so perfectly. He made her sigh his name and rock her hips against his in helpless passion; made her feel like she was an instrument attuned completely to his touch, just waiting for him to make her sing.

He made her see stars and feel like she was flying and falling at once: a pleasure beyond pleasure that rippled all through her and juddered deep to her core.

Zuko tensed all of a sudden, and then it was like he just fell apart before her eyes. The rawness of the moment—of feeling him climax and come inside her—struck her as nothing else had. They'd both been stripped bare, both been exposed to each other in a way that was achingly vulnerable. It was so different from what she'd experienced at the Western Air Temple. There was no shame, no horror, even though her mind had never felt clearer. She knew exactly what they had done, and she realised that she didn't regret it at all.

Katara pressed a soft kiss to his lips and then eased herself off him. She didn't run and she didn't feel any need to do so. Instead, she lay next to him on the bed and curled up against his side. When his arms came around her, she simply closed her eyes and allowed a smile to curve her lips. No, she would not regret this night.

* * *

Well, I ended up writing this today instead of working on my lesson plan for tomorrow … er, make that today. It's almost 3am. Oops. Looks like I'm going to be doing that happy (translation: sleep-deprived) improvising thing. I hope the kiddies play nice.

In any case, this chapter is basically all Zutara and is a massive turning point for the two. I may have indulged in the fluff near the end, but what can I say? I am a huge sap.

And, on that note, I need sleep. Until next time!


	11. His Feelings

Thanks to all the guest and unsigned reviewers! I can't reply, but I appreciate all your comments!

* * *

 **His Feelings**

Zuko woke the next morning feeling more satisfied than he had in a very long time. He lay there for a moment, just content to take it all in. The warm body pressed against his side told him that Katara had not pulled away during the night. That was reassuring. Maybe more so than he cared to admit. She had a habit of playing hot and cold with him, and he wasn't sure he could have handled it had she turned on him again.

He exhaled and skimmed his fingers along her back—bare, warm, and smooth as silk. She made a sleepy sound and snuggled more into him. Zuko stilled. He glanced down at the mass of brown hair, which was all he could see of where her face should have been.

"Hey," he said softly. "You awake?"

Katara mumbled something about not wanting to mend socks. A faint smile curved his lips. She was kind of adorable. He could get used to this—being with her in such a relaxed, uncomplicated way. It was a nice change from all the tension and hurt. He was in no rush to ruin the moment.

Zuko lay there with her like that for a while until even she could no longer cling to sleep. She shifted and raised her head, greeting him with a pair of sleepy blue eyes.

"Hi," he murmured.

Her cheeks coloured. He wasn't sure if the blush arose from the fact they were both still naked or if she just wasn't certain how to do this "morning after" business. Zuko could understand. Now that she was actually awake and looking at him, he could admit that he wasn't sure of the best way to proceed.

"Hi," she said a bit shyly.

A breath he hadn't realised he had been holding escaped his lips. So far so good.

"I think we slept in," he observed.

He was always aware of the sun's position in the sky and the energy that it gave him, though the fact the room was a lot brighter than usual was a dead giveaway.

Katara's mouth twitched. "I guess we did."

There was an obvious pause.

"Seems like it will be a nice day, though," he added. "I mean, it'll be sunny and, uh—"

He trailed off when he noticed her mouth had kept on twitching, slowly curving up more and more until even her shoulders started to shake. Zuko's brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just—" a tiny laugh escaped "—when I imagined what waking up in a bed with you would be like after doing, you know—" she made a vague gesture with her hand "—I didn't think it would be like this."

He scrunched his nose. "Like what? How else is it supposed to be?"

She bit her lip to hold back her laughter. "No, you're right. This is fine."

His eyes narrowed. "You're mocking me."

"I'm not."

A flat look was all she got in response.

"Alright, maybe a little." Her eyes warmed with amusement. "I mean, you were just talking to me about the weather."

Zuko thought for a moment. His cheeks heated. Ugh. He really had been talking to her about the weather. How lame.

"I only meant that—"

Katara pressed her finger to his lips. "It's fine." She propped herself up on her elbow so she was leaning over him. "I think it's kind of cute."

He didn't get a chance to tell her that being described as "cute" was hardly a flattering description for a sixteen-year-old male; the moment he opened his mouth to retort, her own lips pressed against his in a kiss. Zuko stilled. Oh. Well, yeah, kissing was okay with him too. More than okay, if he was to be honest.

She shifted a little so that she was straddling him. That was also okay. In fact, any lingering hesitation seemed to drain out of him. She hadn't distanced herself, she hadn't got upset, and she had been the one to kiss him first. If that didn't mean she was okay with this, then he didn't know what else would.

Zuko fisted his hand in her hair and deepened the kiss. Things were just beginning to get heated when there was a tap at the door. He pulled back from her with a start.

"Did someone just—"

Katara made an impatient sound. "I'm sure it was nothing."

Zuko didn't argue—mostly because she was kissing him again and all the blood that would have helped his ability to think logically had rushed to his nether regions. He rolled her onto her back and shifted his attention to the sensitive skin on her neck, making his way lower and lower. A soft sound escaped her lips when he found her breasts.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

Both Zuko and Katara groaned.

"That was definitely a knock," he muttered.

She looked up at him—flushed, frustrated, and very definitely aroused. It was a total turn on. The last thing he wanted was to pull away.

"Just ignore it," she suggested.

Zuko was torn. A part of him was all for following her advice, but he also had responsibilities and he knew the guards wouldn't try to wake them without a good reason. He sighed and moved off her.

"What is it?" he called.

He had to ignore the way Katara huffed and flopped back against the bed. She didn't protest his decision, but it was obvious she was not happy that they wouldn't get to finish what they'd started. That was kind of flattering. It also made it difficult to stick to his resolve.

"Uh, Fire Lord Zuko." There was a sound of a throat being cleared. "General Iroh requests your presence in the meeting room. He also asks that Lady Katara be present."

"Both of us?" Zuko questioned under his breath.

He frowned at Katara, who just shrugged.

Curious now, Zuko informed the guard that they would go to meet his uncle. First, however, the teens needed to make themselves fit to be seen by the public. Baths were prepared and clothes put on. Soon, the couple were making their way to the room where Iroh waited. A defensive guard of elite firebenders surrounded them, which was a little annoying—Zuko wasn't used to feeling so cloistered—but there was no point trying to hide the fact he was being targeted since the last attempt on his life had been so public. Plus, he knew it made the guards feel better, so he allowed it. They all knew there was no saying when another assassination attempt might come.

Iroh greeted them both with a smile when they arrived. There were no other officials present, but a table had been set up with food. Iroh's eyes twinkled as he confided that he thought they would be hungry, so he'd decided to make this meeting more informal so they could relax and eat. Zuko eyed his uncle suspiciously—that twinkle bothered him—but he was indeed hungry and was glad for the food. Katara had no fault with this plan either and took a seat at the table.

"What's this about, Uncle?" Zuko asked, once they were all settled and eating. "Couldn't this meeting have waited?"

"I'm afraid not. We need to begin preparations straight away."

"Preparations for what?" Katara asked, picking up a strawberry from the fruit plate.

"A messenger hawk arrived this morning. Your father will be arriving tomorrow."

The strawberry fell from her fingers. "What?"

Iroh smiled and explained that, while the emissary had only needed to get permission from her father to make everything official, Chief Hakoda had chosen to come back now with the ambassador rather than wait for the wedding. It seemed a few other members of her tribe would join him. Naturally, the Fire Nation would need to hold a feast and a welcoming ceremony in their honour, and—

Zuko's mouth felt too dry. "And they'll be here tomorrow?"

Iroh nodded.

Katara and Zuko exchanged a glance. It was difficult to say what she was feeling, but he had no trouble pinpointing his response: nervous. His stomach had twisted itself into knots, and his mind was racing. Was Hakoda really okay with the marriage? Would the man be upset that Zuko had got his daughter pregnant out of wedlock? Should Zuko start saying his prayers?

"Well, neither of you have to worry too much about the finer details," Iroh continued, either oblivious or just choosing to ignore the way both teens had tensed. "Sokka has already offered a lot of ideas about how to accommodate our guests from the Water Tribe, and—"

"Wait, my brother knows about this?" Katara demanded.

It sounded like she was upset that Sokka had been told first.

Iroh's mouth twitched. "My dear, it's almost noon. The world will continue to move with the sun, regardless of whether you choose to wake with it or not."

She had the grace to blush. Zuko also felt his cheeks warm; he got the sense that his uncle was aware of what had held them up in the bedroom. Still, the older man didn't tease them any further. Instead, Iroh explained about the things they would need to do: getting fitted for the robes they would wear for the formal announcement of their engagement, practicing the ceremonial rituals they would be expected to carry out, and—at least in Zuko's case—signing approval for all spending.

Zuko repressed a sigh. He really hated this part of being Fire Lord. Three years of being banished and living on a ship had left him with little taste for pomp and ceremony. Unfortunately, there was no getting around it. Even if he wanted to dispense with formalities, the people expected these things from him and would start to feel nervous if he changed too much too soon. Zuko couldn't afford a nervous nation.

"I guess we're going to be busy then," he muttered.

Katara's gaze flickered to his in a smile. "Shouldn't you be used to this?"

"I hate these things," he said frankly. "All the ceremonies and parties—they're awful."

She laughed outright at that. Zuko told her that she wouldn't find it so funny once she was the one stuck standing for hours while people fussed around her with cloth, or when she had to kneel for ages on the hard ground while Fire Sages rambled on about nothing, or getting stuck talking to people at parties who were like oily leeches and only wanted to move up in rank, or—

"I get it, I get it," she said, half-laughing as she held her hand up in an appeasing gesture. Then her lips curved into a smile that made his chest feel way too warm and his stomach flutter. "At least you won't be doing it alone this time, right?"

His breath caught in his throat. If he hadn't already been aware of the fact that he was hopelessly in love with this girl, he might have fallen for her then.

"Right," he said, glancing away.

Iroh watched them both with a knowing expression. Zuko knew for certain then that the old man had figured out how things stood between the teens. That was why he wasn't surprised when his uncle cornered him later.

"You're getting along much better with Katara," Iroh observed. "Something good must have happened."

Zuko's cheeks heated. "I guess you could say that."

An unspoken "but" snuck into the silence.

Iroh frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Zuko shook his head. It was nothing—just a silly worry that niggled because, well, even if she had wanted to be with him last night and had no qualms about kissing him this morning, a part of him did wonder just how deep her feelings went. Sometimes he got hopeful; sometimes it seemed that she might care for him as much as he cared for her. But he had been burned and led on too many times. It made him wary. It made him worry that their relationship was unbalanced—that maybe he felt a little too much while, for her, it was more physical.

"It's nothing," Zuko said firmly.

No need to complicate matters when things were finally looking up. Instead, Zuko reminded himself that Katara had not regretted being with him. She seemed softer today, more affectionate. That had to mean something, right?

Iroh gave him a shrewd look, but he didn't push the issue. "Well, it is good to see you've become closer anyway. People will be watching you both very closely from now on. It will look better if you seem happy with each other."

"I know."

Zuko was quite aware that he and Katara would need to appear like the perfect couple to satisfy both their nations and convince people that the marriage would be a good thing. After all, everyone enjoyed a good love story. Sometimes, he'd wondered if that was why his uncle had been pushing them together so much. Iroh was a cunning man, and he knew Zuko wasn't the best actor. Better to strip the denial away than to risk the alternative.

"Let's just focus on preparing for welcoming Katara's father," Zuko said, wanting to change the subject. "We should probably increase security as well. I don't want any problems with anti-Water Tribe hate."

Iroh made a thoughtful noise. "Yes, that would be unfortunate. There's also the assassin to worry about."

Zuko gritted his teeth at the reminder. "That person had better not try anything."

Being hated and targeted was nothing new, but the last thing they needed right now with Hakoda and the Water Tribe guests coming was another public attempt on his life. Zuko didn't want Katara's father to see how tenuous his reign had become.

"Any clues yet?" Zuko asked. "About the assassin's identity, I mean."

Iroh stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. "The arrowhead I had examined had been coated in shirshu venom. It's common enough in the black market, but a search is underway to see if anyone bought some recently."

Zuko nodded.

Iroh hesitated. "I know you weren't too happy with the idea, but we may need to begin a proper interrogation of all the palace guards and staff. It's very likely that the assassin is one of them."

"I know," Zuko said heavily.

He'd hoped they wouldn't have to resort to such methods. An official interrogation would show that he did not trust those who had been hired to serve him, and Zuko _did_ want to trust them. Their stations might be lower than his, but their deeds had not gone unnoticed. However, the fact remained that his life was in danger, and he had realised after yesterday how much that upset Katara. She'd almost cried; he never wanted to see her like that again. Still, they had to tread carefully.

"It's not like we can do anything right now," Zuko pointed out. "Hakoda and whoever has come with him will be here tomorrow. We'll only complicate things further if we start an official interrogation."

Iroh agreed that it would be better to hold off for now. They left the matter there. Zuko parted with his uncle not long after, though his mood remained low. It was difficult to believe he had woken up feeling so contented. Much as things with Katara had got better, the conversation with his uncle reminded him that all was not well in the palace. Zuko wished he knew who was targeting him. Unfortunately, it could be anyone at this rate. Even those who proclaimed to be on his side could just be wolfbats in koalasheep's clothing.

He sighed and stood on one of the balconies that overlooked the Caldera. A part of him could almost understand how Azula had gone crazy and started banishing everyone during her brief time on the throne. Being Fire Lord was hard work—even more so when there were those who made it blatantly obvious they wanted to end his reign. He didn't want to be like her, though. He didn't want to be like his father either. He just wanted to do things right.

Why couldn't people understand that?

Another breath escaped his lips and he slumped forward, propping his chin on his hands. The guards stood watch behind him, grim-faced and silent. Eventually, Zuko was summoned to be fitted for his ceremonial robes. A wry smile touched his lips as he stepped away from the balcony. Well, he supposed it would be a distraction at the very least. Better to have people fuss around him with rolls of cloth than to wonder about when someone was next going to try kill him or how he was supposed to face Hakoda tomorrow.

Zuko grimaced a little as he thought of how very big Hakoda was. Yes, he was not looking forward to that reunion at all.

 **oOo**

The day passed quickly. Zuko felt like he had been pushed from one task to the next. In fact, the entire palace was in a buzz as people prepared to welcome their Water Tribe guests. He barely got a chance to speak to or even see Katara, let alone his friends. An unfortunate encounter with some disgruntled nobles and officials did not improve his mood either. By the time he returned to his bedroom later that night and got changed into his sleepwear, he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out.

"You look terrible," Katara informed him.

He just grunted and collapsed next to her on the bed. His face was mushed into the pillow and he made no effort to fix that.

Katara chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

Another grunt.

She prodded him in the back. "Don't go to sleep yet. I want to talk."

Zuko exhaled and rolled over so he was facing her. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me." She jabbed him in the arm. "You could at least try to act like you're happy to have a conversation with me."

He sighed and hauled himself up so he was sitting cross-legged in front of her. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"My dad's coming tomorrow."

"I know. I was there with you when you got told, remember?"

He hadn't meant to sound so snarky, but he was tired and had been stressing about this very fact for most of the day. The last thing he felt like doing now was to dredge up all that anxiety.

Katara pursed her lips. "Fine. If you're just going to be a jerk about it, then—"

"No, wait." He placed his hands on her shoulders to hold her still before she could turn away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm just—it's been a long day."

She held his gaze for a moment and then let out a breath. "If you're really tired we can just go to sleep."

"It's fine," he assured her. "Talk to me."

No matter how exhausted he was, he could see that something was bothering her and he didn't want her to feel like he wouldn't listen if she needed him.

Katara lowered her gaze. "I'm worried," she confessed. "About seeing my dad, I mean."

Zuko let go of her shoulders. "Because of, um, all this?" He made an awkward gesture between them.

She nodded.

He frowned and took one of her hands in his, running his thumb over her palm. Words of comfort didn't come naturally to him, but he'd always found that simple touches like this had used to calm him down—back when his mother had still been around anyway.

"You know," he said after a moment, "I only knew your dad for a short time, but he seemed like he cared a lot about you and Sokka."

"I know he cares about me."

"Then why—"

"Because I don't want him to be disappointed."

Zuko let out another breath. "Oh."

Well, that was something he could understand. He'd spent most of his life desperately trying to please his father. Much good it had done him.

"Katara," he said, placing his other hand on her cheek and tilting her face more towards him, "I don't think you have to worry."

"But—"

"Your father loves you. Maybe this isn't the future he probably expected or even hoped for you, but it's not like he cast you off when he found out, right? He's coming all this way just to see you."

She met his gaze. "Do you really think so?"

"Well, I certainly don't think that you have anything to worry about." He grimaced and brought his hands back to rest on his lap. "I can't say the same for myself."

Her eyes softened in realisation. "Are you nervous?"

"Terrified," he admitted. "Your dad is kind of huge."

She laughed. "I don't think he'll hurt you."

"I hope not."

Zuko didn't want to have to face an angry Hakoda.

Katara smiled and grabbed his hand, enclosing it between both of hers. "You'll be fine. My dad can be a bit impulsive sometimes, but he won't be stupid enough to hit the Fire Lord." A crease formed on her brow. "Probably."

Zuko groaned and leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against her shoulder. "That's really reassuring."

She chuckled again—he felt the vibration pass through him. "Want me to protect you? I am supposed to be your undercover bodyguard."

Zuko fought back a smile and pulled away to meet her gaze. "Tempting, but no. I mean, I'm the guy who's going to take you away from your dad and your tribe; it's best if I just face up to whatever he has in store for me."

Her mouth curved at the corners. "It's not like you're forcing me to become your wife, you know. I agreed to this too."

His heart pounded a little, quickening without his permission "So you did."

There was a moment where they just stared at each other. He noticed the way her eyes dropped to his lips. She was going to kiss him; he could see the intention all over her expression.

"Katara," he said softly, even as he placed his free hand on top of hers, "I—there's something I have to ask you."

"What?"

"We both know that what we did at the Western Air Temple was a mistake, but—" he swallowed, even as the pounding of his heart got faster and faster "—but I have to ask. Do you—do you still regret it? I mean, do you wish things were different?"

Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"If you hadn't got pregnant," he said in a rush. "If you hadn't had to get engaged to me or even stay with me because it was the best thing for our nations, would you—would you have just forgotten and moved on?" He swallowed, nervous but unable to stop the flow of words. "Would you even want to be with me?"

A breath escaped her lips. He waited for her answer, his body tense and his heart pounding. It was agonising; he felt like he'd ripped open his chest and exposed the beating organ that lay protected inside—exposed all his vulnerability.

Katara's gaze skittered to the side. "I—why are you asking me this?"

A hollow pit formed in his stomach. Her words, harmless as they would have been in any other context, stabbed through him like ice-tipped daggers. He tried to get a response out, but his throat felt too clogged. He had to clear it before he could speak.

"No, you're right," he said, disengaging his hands from hers. "I don't know why I asked that. Just forget it."

He turned away from her quickly and then he lay down on his side of the bed. Katara was still for a moment. He felt the mattress dip a little. Her hand brushed his shoulder.

"Zuko—"

"I'm tired," he said quietly. "You don't mind if we just go to sleep now?"

Katara seemed to hesitate and then her touch was gone. "Of course not. Goodnight."

He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the growing ache in his chest. "Goodnight."

She settled down next to him in the bed, but she did not come any closer. Zuko put out the candles to allow the darkness to surround them. It brought no relief. He felt like the biggest idiot in the world. It was long, long time before he fell asleep.

* * *

How short the fluffy times did last.

On a side note, I dreamt last night that I finished this story, but the ending was really crappy and not how I planned at all. I was just left sitting there going "wtf? Why did I write this? Did alien robots hijack my brain?" So weird. I promise I won't make that ending a reality, haha.

Until next time!


	12. Expectations

Warning: Steamy times ahead. You'll know when you get to it. This one is a bit more graphic (Zuko's PoV didn't want to let me take a more lyrical approach), so please skim/skip that scene if it makes you uncomfortable.

* * *

 **Expectations**

The temperature was uncomfortably warm. All the mugginess clung to Katara like a second layer of clothing. If so many people weren't around, she would have used her bending to get rid of the sweat trickling down her back and to cool herself. But there was a crowd gathered: nobles, officials—anyone important enough to earn a place close to the dais and with a good view of the airship. The less important were too far away to be anything more than blurred colours and vague people-shaped things. It was strange to think so many had come, but then today was a special occasion.

She fidgeted with the golden-threaded trim on the sleeve of her dress. It was a beautiful dress, of course. As beautiful as everything the Fire Nation had gifted her. She just couldn't help but feel restless. Nervous. She had wanted to wear blue to greet her father—maybe just to show she was still his daughter and a proud Water Tribeswoman—but all of her own clothes had been too worn and frayed from travelling. She would have looked like some dirty vagabond next to Zuko. That would not have been good; they needed to make a good impression on his people as well.

Even now, she could feel the eyes of the crowd upon her. Scrutinising her. This was her first public appearance with Zuko. Rumours had been spreading all through the capital about her, both good and bad. The officials and most of those who worked in the palace knew she was engaged to the Fire Lord, but the rest of the public had not received a formal announcement. Today would change that; it had been decided that it was best to combine the welcoming ceremony with the announcement of the engagement. All they waited for now was her father and those who had come with him to emerge from the airship docked in the port.

Katara shifted on her feet and tried not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. Zuko stood close to her on the dais, dressed in his full Fire Lord attire and looking somehow much bigger and unapproachable. Or maybe it was just the slight frown harshening his features, giving him a firm, inflexible look. He looked a bit like his father, actually. That was unsettling. Iroh noticed it as well and leaned closer to his nephew from where he stood a little to the side of the couple.

"Smile," Iroh murmured, suiting action to word on his own face. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion, remember?"

Zuko tensed all over before exhaling and forcing the frown lines from his face. A smile didn't quite surface, but it was better than nothing. Katara touched his hand to give him some reassurance. He flinched from the contact. Her stomach twisted. Right. He wasn't exactly happy with her at the moment. Not that he'd said as much aloud; she just sensed it in the way he'd been carefully avoiding her; in the way he had stopped smiling whenever she was around and how their conversations had been reduced to monosyllabic replies on his part. It was like the warm, awkward boy she had been getting to know had closed right off from her overnight. In his place was this other Zuko—this guarded, quiet Zuko who, even when they stood this close, was still unbearably distant.

A lump formed in her throat. Katara swallowed it back and straightened to her full height. Now wasn't the time to worry about the strain she'd caused on their relationship; it wasn't like she didn't have an idea of why he'd done a one-eighty. But even if it upset him to be near her—even if he found it difficult now—they still had a role to play. Everyone was watching. Like tiger-sharks, they would seize on any weakness, any sense of discomfort that she or Zuko let slip. As Fire Lord, he couldn't afford that. Neither of them could afford that. Today, they had to be the perfect couple. So she ignored the twisting knots in her stomach and once more reached for his hand. He tensed, but she didn't let him pull back. Instead, she intertwined their fingers and raised her eyes to his.

 _Work with me_ , she tried to say through her gaze _. You're the ruler of this nation, aren't you? Bear with this, even if it's just for them._

Zuko let out a breath. Ever so tentatively, he relaxed into her touch. It was like a thawing of ice on a spring morning: subtle, taking its time. It also made her chest ache in a way she had not anticipated. His hand was warm and a little rough with callouses; everything about the sensation was familiar. She realised just how much she had missed this. Missed him. It hadn't even been a day, and she had already gone into mourning for the loss of his touch. That was a little pathetic—especially since he only held her hand now because they had to put on a display for the public.

Katara resisted the urge to be greedy and press closer; it wouldn't be fair. A horn blew to signal the start of the ceremony and the musicians who had been playing some traditional Fire Nation song stopped the music. The airship hatch lowered and the guards on watch straightened more to attention, ready to act should the mood of the crowd change. So far, nothing had happened to disturb the peace of the day except her own relationship problems; Katara hoped it stayed that way.

The emissary who had been sent to negotiate with the Southern Water Tribe emerged from the ship first. He bowed to Zuko and then to her before calling the name and title of her father. The emissary made sure to emphasise the "Chief" part. Katara had to bite back a half-hysterical giggle. The whole situation reminded her of being in the Northern Water Tribe, back when Sokka had tried to make it appear like he was the equivalent of royalty in an attempt to impress Yue. There was nothing regal about the Southern Water Tribe, just as her father's title of Chief was not the same as Fire Lord. Still, like the red and gold dress she wore, it was all about the image. Iroh had explained that sometimes these things were just necessary. She was glad that at least the boy holding her hand didn't care if she'd come from an ice hut or that the only "subjects" she'd ever had were snot-nosed kids she'd had to cajole into doing chores and going potty.

Zuko had never asked nor expected her to be like a princess, but she was going to become one anyway.

Her father stepped onto the landing, sticking out like a sore thumb with his blue tunic and furs, and the way he towered over everyone. Zuko stiffened a little and her grip got almost convulsive, if only for a heartbeat. Both of them had been dreading this meeting. Then two more people came to walk behind her father: Master Pakku and—her breath hitched—there was Gran Gran. Katara couldn't help twisting to look over her shoulder, hoping to catch Sokka's gaze. Her brother beamed from where he stood near Iroh. Their family had come.

The lump was back in her throat, but it didn't feel so unpleasant now. She had not thought they would all come. Still, she couldn't help the way her stomach fluttered in a mixture of nerves and dread. The Water Tribes cherished family and community above all else, and right now she did not know how hers felt about this situation—not properly. Would they be disappointed in her? Was this a show of support or were they simply going through the motions, just waiting to get her alone so they could express how much she had let them down?

Hakoda stepped onto the dais and stopped in front of the young couple. Master Pakku and Gran Gran stood a little behind; ceremony dictated that this was how it was meant to be. Just like Katara knew what was supposed to happen when Zuko released her hand and stepped forward to meet her father as a fellow ruler of a nation. Her father was supposed to bow first, since they were in the Fire Nation and that placed Zuko at the top of the hierarchy in terms of formal greetings. Instead, without a word, Zuko bowed low.

Lower than a Fire Lord should ever bow.

Katara could almost hear the collective gasp from the crowd. This was a breach in protocol. No doubt the whispers were already starting: why was the Fire Lord lowering himself to some backwater chief? How could he shame himself, shame his nation, in such a way? Even Iroh made a motion as if to get his nephew to straighten, but then the old man just paused, shook his head with a smile, and stepped back into line. There was no point in trying to stop this. The very fact that Zuko had just given a two-fingered salute to protocol—in the humblest of ways, in front of everyone, and all because of his personal feelings—was just _so Zuko._ Katara had quickly learnt that he was the kind of Fire Lord who didn't give a flying hogmonkey about the rules—not when he thought there were more important things to care about.

Hakoda stepped forward. "You going to show me your face or do you plan to stare at the ground the whole time?"

His tone was neutral. Zuko didn't move at first, but then he slowly straightened. For a moment the two males just stared at each other. No one else dared to breathe a word. The Fire Sage who was supposed to conduct the ceremony cleared his throat and looked to Iroh, as if to ask what they were supposed to do now. Zuko had just messed up everything. Katara had to swallow another giggle. Maybe she really was turning hysterical.

Hakoda's gaze flickered to her for a moment, but it was too quick for her to react or even read his expression; he was back to focussing on Zuko in the blink of an eye. With surprising grace, her father bowed and uttered the formal greetings. Zuko returned them as he was expected this time. From there, everything was able to go as planned: gifts were exchanged, the Fire Sage waffled about peace and unity, and all the while she and everyone else just had to stand there and keep their mouths shut until prompted otherwise.

Katara wasn't very good at keeping her mouth shut.

She could appreciate now why Zuko hated this stuff. This should have been a private moment—it was definitely a tense one—but instead all of them were on public display. Emotions that wanted to spill out had to be kept in check. She couldn't ask her family how they really felt or even greet them properly; all she could do was stand and listen and wait for her cues. It was almost a relief when the Fire Sage announced the engagement and made everything official; at least this horrid ceremony was almost over. Not that the crowd were entirely enthralled by the upcoming marriage. Sure, there were a lot of cheers and clapping, but she could also sense the hostility that lurked amongst the faces watching her, like deadly water hidden beneath a sheen of ice.

 _You're not one of us,_ those faces seemed to say. _Don't think we'll accept you just like that._

Zuko took her hand in his and faced the crowd with her. She squeezed his hand a little, conscious of how exposed she felt, of how grateful she was for his presence. The Fire Sage wished blessings upon them and both their nations, and then the young couple bowed. Just like that, the ceremony was over.

 **oOo**

"Katara!"

She didn't have time to work out whether the flop in her stomach had stirred from hope or dread; the moment they'd all returned to the palace and got some privacy, her father was quick to pull her into an embrace. Katara stilled for a moment and then wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his chest. It was like a weight had fallen away from her shoulders. She could sense no deception in his hug. If he was disappointed in her, he was doing a good job of hiding it.

"Dad," she murmured, clutching him tighter.

He pulled back and held her gaze. "I'm only going to ask you one thing: are you happy?"

Katara bit her lip. The honest answer would have been to say she didn't know. Her relationship with Zuko was still so fragile, and she had never expected to have to get married, let alone become a mother, so young. Still, when she thought of everything that had happened—of how much had changed since that disastrous night when she'd learnt she was pregnant, she thought that maybe she could be happy here. She thought that, in time, the Fire Nation could become her home.

"I'll be okay," she said, going for the middle ground. "You don't need to worry about me."

Hakoda nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You were always brave—just like your mother."

Her eyes watered a little. He looked as if he would have said more, but he was pulled away by Sokka. Katara was left to face Master Pakku and Gran Gran. Her stomach flopped again, though she tried to hold her head high.

"I'm glad you came," she managed to get out.

Her grandmother's stone-like face softened and a hint of warmth crept into her eyes. "You look well."

Katara blinked back tears. That was enough for her to know that her grandmother accepted the situation. It seemed her family had mutually decided not to lecture her. For that, Katara was grateful. Her mistakes were many, and she had not needed a reminder. Even Master Pakku hugged her and said that, while he had always hoped she would return to the tribe, he knew that marriage to the Fire Lord was the best thing for her. This didn't give her as much comfort since she had a suspicion he'd only said as much because being an unwed mother was akin to making herself a social pariah, but still. At least no one was yelling; at least no one was calling her a fool for getting pregnant in the first place.

She turned her head and noticed Zuko standing off to the side with his uncle. His expression was soft as he watched her family—content, perhaps, for her sake that the fears she'd shared with him had proven ill-founded, yet there was a hint of wistfulness as well. Their eyes met. Katara found herself closing the distance between them and taking his hand in hers.

"Come talk to them," she said.

His entire body tensed. Gone was the warmth in his expression; now there was only panic. Katara brushed her thumb against knuckle—an instinctive gesture—and then tugged him over to where the others were being regaled by a gesticulating Sokka. Zuko didn't resist. Not that he seemed overly happy either. He looked like a hermit crab wanting to crawl into a shell: all hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. Yet he still allowed himself to be led.

Sokka paused to take a breath and Katara seized her chance. She cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Dad, Gran Gran, Mast—uh, Grandfather." Katara gestured to the boy beside her. "I wanted to introduce you properly. I mean, you all know Zuko …"

She trailed off, realising this was more difficult than expected. Much as her family had been understanding with her, there were still various levels of judgement being directed at Zuko. It was so obvious that even she could feel it: the way he was being sized up; the way they were probably trying to decide if he had taken advantage of her or if he was truly worthy of being her husband. Katara's own voice was choked into silence. They were getting it all wrong; she was too ashamed to correct them.

Gran Gran raised her eyebrow at the scarred teen. "Are you not going to say anything? I remember you being a lot more vocal the last time we met."

Zuko visibly winced. "I—" His voice sounded thick, and he swallowed to clear it. "I'm sorry. About what happened back then, I mean. I was an idiot." He released Katara's hand and bowed low to the older woman. "I hope you will forgive me, uh—"

He seemed to flounder for the right name to call her. Gran Gran gave him her flattest stare.

"Call me Gran Gran."

Her tone was as dry as the Si Wong Desert, and it left Zuko with creases all over his brow. He clearly didn't know what to make of this information. Katara bit back a smile and leaned in close to him.

"It means she likes you," Katara whispered in his ear.

His cheeks heated a little. She could smell his scent—all summer and boy. It took the reminder that her family and Iroh were watching to stop her from nuzzling into his neck. He was far too tempting for his own good.

"Uh," Zuko continued a bit awkwardly. "Then I hope you'll forgive me, uh, Gran Gran."

The older woman's mouth twitched. "Make my granddaughter happy and you can consider yourself forgiven."

Zuko blinked at that. He shot Katara a glance before lowering his gaze. The blush lingering on his cheeks darkened. "I'll do my best."

"You had better," was all Gran Gran responded.

Having said her piece, the older woman declared she was tired from travelling and hoped there was a place for her to rest. Servants appeared from out of nowhere and offered to lead her, along with the others, to the rooms that had been prepared for them. Sokka was cajoled into going with her. Master Pakku would have followed, but he was snagged by Iroh, who wanted to catch up and challenge his friend to a game of Pai Sho. Only Katara, Zuko and her father didn't move.

"Can you give us a minute, Katara?" her father asked once they were alone.

Katara had an odd urge to insist on staying by Zuko's side. Her father looked uncharacteristically grim.

"Dad—"

Zuko touched her arm to get her attention and shook his head. He didn't need or want her protection. Not for this.

"Fine," she sighed.

Zuko glanced away. Her father promised he would come find her afterwards so they could talk more; he wanted to hear all about what she had been doing. Katara nodded and left the two to talk. It wasn't like she had any other choice. All she could hope was that her father would go easy on Zuko. She'd already upset the teen by not giving him the answer he'd wanted last night; it made her feel worse to think her father might hound him about her now. Zuko had looked so subdued and uncertain.

" _If you hadn't got pregnant; if you hadn't had to get engaged to me … would you have just forgotten and moved on? Would you even want to be with me?"_

Katara let out a breath. "Idiot," she muttered.

Even she didn't know if she was referring to herself or to him.

 **oOo**

Zuko's pulse throbbed uncomfortably in his neck. He was conscious of Hakoda looming over him, staring hard at him. His mouth felt too dry and there was a building pressure in his chest. The whole situation reminded him too much of facing judgement from his own father. It filled him with a pathetic urge to apologise over and over.

It made him upset that he was reminded of Ozai at all.

He swallowed and forced himself to stand tall, trying his best not to show any of the unease he was feeling. "You wished to speak to me?"

His voice came out a bit too quiet. Maybe that was why Hakoda's frown deepened.

"I did," the older man agreed, "but now I'm not so sure it's necessary."

Zuko's brow furrowed. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence while they just stared at each other. Something shifted in Hakoda's gaze and he reached out his hand—too close to the left side of Zuko's face. The teen flinched and stepped back before he could even think about what he was doing. A curdling sensation twisted through his stomach. That had been very rude of him. Even now, Hakoda stood frozen with his hand outstretched, though his eyes soon narrowed.

"Sorry," Zuko blurted out, quickly ducking his head into a bow. "I didn't mean—"

The older man lowered his hand. "Are you afraid of me?"

Zuko frantically shook his head. It was his stupid body that had reacted. A lingering instinct born from a brand of fire.

"I—I just wasn't thinking," Zuko insisted. "I didn't mean any offence."

"I'm not offended." Hakoda tilted his head to the side with a frown. "Though, I have to say, you're making this pretty difficult for me."

Zuko winced. "Sorry."

The apology didn't get the expected response. Hakoda just pressed his palm to his forehead and muttered something about how he felt like an executioner. Zuko moistened his dry lips; he still hadn't risen from his stooped over position.

"Stand up straight," Hakoda said, seeming to come to a decision.

Zuko's stomach twisted as he obeyed the command. This time, he earned a wry smile from the older man.

"Relax. I'm not going to eat you."

Zuko remained unnaturally stiff. He was aware that Hakoda probably wouldn't hurt him—not like his own father would have—but that didn't change his body's instincts. It was hard not to feel on edge. Hard not to expect a punishment for daring to make a mistake. Perhaps also because, for all the permanency of his scar, the cruel words he'd heard all his life had dug in so much deeper.

"You know," Hakoda continued, "I had been intending to give you a piece of my mind. My daughter is very young and I know what males your age can be like."

Zuko fixed his gaze on the floor. He didn't bother to explain that it was Katara who had been the instigator. In the end, they had both chosen to be with each other that night in the Western Air Temple. He couldn't and wouldn't blame her for his own weakness.

Hakoda folded his arms across his chest. "I won't lie; this isn't the life I wanted for her. Katara deserves to grow up like a normal girl. She shouldn't have to give up everything to become your wife." He sighed and shook his head. "But she did agree to marry you, and even I can admit that this is the best outcome. People can be cruel; it is better for her and the unborn child she's carrying to have your protection."

"I know," Zuko said, still with his gaze downcast.

Hakoda sighed again and then he rubbed the base of his neck, looking almost awkward. "Well, maybe I just wanted someone to blame."

The teen glanced up in surprise.

"You were the easier target," Hakoda explained a bit ruefully. "I couldn't bring myself to be mad with my daughter, but I thought I could say what I wanted to you. Turns out, I don't have the heart."

The creases on Zuko's brow deepened. "I'm not sure I follow."

"You might be the Fire Lord, but you're still just a child yourself. My mother must have seen that as well; she wouldn't have warmed to you so quickly otherwise." A smile flittered across the man's lips. "Took even me by surprise."

Zuko didn't know how he felt about being called a child, but at least the mood in the room didn't feel so threatening now. His shoulders relaxed a little and he was able to breathe a bit easier.

"Just tell me one thing," Hakoda said, shifting back to a more serious tone. "Do you love her?"

All the breath seemed to vanish from Zuko's lungs. "Yes," he practically whispered.

Hakoda nodded. "Good. Then I know you'll take proper care of her."

Zuko said nothing. She didn't love him, even if she did feel physically attracted to him. That wound was still raw. It seemed to be his lot in life to always fall short in satisfying those he cared for most. But it wasn't like he wanted to punish her for it either. Somehow, he had to make the most of this situation; he had to work together with her. Even if it hurt. Even if her touch was a double-edged sword that made him ache in impossible ways, so torn between yearning and pain.

Hakoda's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

Zuko tensed. Perhaps some of his unhappiness had snuck through into his expression. Spirits knew he wasn't very good at hiding his emotions.

"I'm fine," he said, not quite meeting the other man's gaze.

Hakoda made a thoughtful sound, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he stepped forward and placed his hand on Zuko's left shoulder—what he had intended to do before, it seemed.

"This must be hard for you," Hakoda said gently, "but keep your chin up. You're the Fire Lord. You need to be strong."

Zuko let out a breath. "I know."

"But also—" their eyes met "—don't hesitate to ask for help when you need it. Even the greatest warriors can't fight every battle alone."

Zuko just nodded. Hakoda squeezed his shoulder and then let go.

"You're a good kid," the older man said offhandedly. "I suppose my daughter could have done worse."

With a final nod of acknowledgment, Hakoda took his leave. Zuko frowned to himself for a moment before he also left the private parlour. His guards were waiting for him on the other side and smoothly fell into formation. Zuko noticed Kenta standing to his left.

"How's your leg?" Zuko asked.

Kenta flashed a grin. "Lady Katara gave me an extra healing session yesterday; it's like I was never injured. She's amazing!"

Zuko blinked at the show of enthusiasm. Kenta's cheeks flared with pink and he cleared his throat.

"My leg is fine, Fire Lord Zuko," he said in a much calmer town. "Thank you for asking."

Zuko's expression softened into a smile. So, Katara had gone out of her way to make sure Kenta got back to a hundred percent as soon as possible. That was very like her; she was going to make a wonderful princess. He just wished …

A sigh escaped his lips and he kept walking. No point fretting about that again. She couldn't make herself love him; she'd told him so right at the beginning. He just had to learn to not be so greedy. At least she didn't try to avoid him anymore. It had to be enough.

 **oOo**

"You really do hate these things, don't you?"

Zuko paused in the act of holding a cup to his lips. He glanced at Katara, who smiled as she sat down next to him. She looked beautiful—achingly so. Red suited her well. The soft glow from the candles that lit the grand hall made her skin look warm and far too tempting, and her eyes looked bluer than ever. His gaze dropped to her lips and then skittered away.

"At least the wine is good," he muttered. "Makes this more bearable."

She moved closer and he caught a hint of a floral scent. "Was that a joke?"

He just shrugged and drained the small glass, then set it on the tray being carried by a passing servant. His body tingled a little from the rice wine. Still, his head was clear enough; Zuko knew better than to let himself get intoxicated at a formal feast. All around them, he could hear the hum of voices from the nobles and officials who had gathered—all hoping to win favours and show off their rank. Music played in the background, though there was no dancing. After having the pastime banned for so long, no one much knew the steps for anything. Aang seemed to decide this was a problem that needed to be fixed; the kid was soon clearing a space for himself and started showing the people near him how to do a traditional Fire Nation dance. An elderly noblewoman ended up becoming his partner. Katara covered her mouth to hide her smile.

"There he goes," she said with a hint of affection.

Zuko watched the younger boy dance. "Aang will be Aang, I guess."

Her lips quirked up at the corner. "Want to try?"

A flicker of panic entered his eyes. "What?"

"Oh, come on." She grabbed his hand and began tugging him to his feet. "It'll be fun."

"Wait—Katara, I don't—" He managed to loosen her grip and stopped in his tracks like a stubborn komodo-rhino. "I can't dance."

"Can't or won't?"

He pursed his lips.

She stepped even closer and placed her hand on his chest. "Hey, it's fine. I don't really know how to dance either, so that makes two of us."

"How is that supposed to be reassuring?"

She laughed—a bright, warm sound he'd barely heard from her. "At least you won't be alone, right?"

His stomach fluttered, but there was a piercing ache as well. She had no idea what she was doing to him. It made him lose his resolve to be patient with her.

"Dance with Aang if you're so eager," he said, turning away from her. "I'm not—"

"What if I want to dance with you?"

His breath caught in his throat. Katara smiled and took both his hands in hers, pulling him closer.

"Would it really be so bad?" she asked.

Zuko stared at her for a long moment. He frowned and carefully slipped free of her touch. "I don't dance. Sorry."

He made his escape before she could try cajoling him further. It was cowardly of him, perhaps, but he knew he would crumble to her if she kept pushing. Katara did not join the people dancing, but he did spot her talking to her grandmother and then later to Suki. The two girls had their heads close together and looked as if they were having a serious discussion. Zuko drank more rice wine and wondered if he could get away with retiring early to his private chambers. Then he remembered this was supposed to be a feast to honour Katara's family, along with his engagement to her, and it would look pretty bad if he ditched.

He sighed and resigned himself to playing the good Fire Lord. Most of the evening was spent wasted on sycophants and trying not to make a fool of himself. Zuko could admit that he ended up having more rice wine than was perhaps wise. Fortunately, he carried it well, so no one at the party would have noticed much. Unfortunately, the alcohol really began to hit by the time he got back to his room. He found himself watching Katara as she brushed her hair while preparing for bed, fascinated by the different hues of browns that the candlelight made visible. As if in trance, he walked forward and touched the soft strands cascading down her back. Katara stilled.

"I thought you were still mad," she observed.

"I'm not mad."

His voice was quiet and a little husky. Katara placed the brush down and turned to face him.

"It didn't seem like it earlier," she responded. "You've been tense and trying to avoid me all day."

"Yes."

"Yes?" Her brow furrowed. "Is that all you can say?"

Zuko leaned forward. His blood was pulsing with desire and alcohol and all those confusing mix of feelings that weakened his control. She smelt so good. Everything about her was soft and warm and tempting. He traced her mouth with his fingertip, taking satisfaction in the way her pupils dilated and her breathing quickened. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do a lot more than that as well, and he knew she would let him. She wouldn't hesitate if he wanted to be physically intimate with her; it was only love she denied him. That knowledge still hurt—like a thorn burrowing into his flesh—but just then he also didn't much care. He was used to taking the bitter with the sweet.

He kissed her lightly at first—just the barest hint of contact. The second time she returned the pressure of his lips. By the third, their hands were seeking each other and his heart pounded as their tongues touched and caressed. She tasted like the sweet fruit they'd had with dessert and the even sweeter taste that was distinctly hers. It made him want more. Her taste, her touch. The kiss got heated fast. She made a soft sound and pulled back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen.

"You—you're not drunk, are you?" she asked.

Right. No doubt she could taste the rice wine.

He rested his forehead against hers, shaking his head. He wasn't drunk. Not really. He knew what he was doing; it was just his inhibitions that had been lowered. The pleasant buzz working its way through him made it easier to not care about holding back in the name of self-preservation. It told him to just enjoy what he could, because this was all he could get from her anyway. Right now, he needed something.

"You like this too, right?" he murmured, nuzzling her face and hair until he found the hypersensitive skin by her ear.

"Yes, but—"

A small gasp escaped her when he bit down on her neck. He soothed the mark with his tongue, shifting into an open-mouthed kiss.

"You seem different tonight," she said a bit breathlessly.

He made a humming sound of acknowledgement and reached for the fastening to her robe. "I'll stop if you want me to," he murmured, lips a hairsbreadth from hers.

Katara shook her head—too quickly. Colour spread on her cheeks. She'd just exposed how much she wanted him. His mouth curved into an odd smile; the bitter was stronger than the sweet just then. Still, he kissed her deeply and pushed the cloth past her shoulders so it pooled in a silky bundle on the floor. Now all of her was bare except for the wrappings covering her lower half. His hands skimmed her thighs as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. All the heat coming from her was driving him crazy. No doubt she was already wet for him; he was definitely aware of how hard he was for her. The pressure on his pants was getting uncomfortable.

He tugged off all the restricting cloth he was wearing, only to pause when he noticed Katara staring at his erection. He swallowed and his heart beat faster. It was difficult not to make a sound when she touched him. There was something curious and unabashed about the contact—more so than there had ever been when she'd let her hands stray lower than his chest. His eyes fluttered shut. The sensations she created were too much: all ripples and shocks that could bring him to his knees, begging. Even with the alcohol, Zuko felt a bit embarrassed when he jerked helplessly against her hand.

"Do you like it when I do this?" she asked, her tone as curious as her touch.

He bit back a groan. Surely, she had to see what she was doing to him? That little tease. Instead of answering, he kissed her hard and captured her wrists with his hands, raising her arms above her head so that she couldn't touch him anymore. He didn't want to give her all the power—not then. She had enough sway over him.

He left her lips to pay special attention to her breasts. The way she arched beneath him was torture, but of the sweetest kind. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his mouth down her stomach. She went still when he began unravelling the cloth that covered her lower half. It almost made him smile. Zuko tossed the cloth aside and spread her legs a bit more. She didn't shy from him this time and just lay there so he could see her in all her femininity: slick with need, her body naked and beautiful. Her anticipation was as heady as the scent of her arousal.

Zuko curled his hand around her leg and pressed a kiss to the inner part of her thigh. She wriggled her hips a little in impatience. This wasn't the spot where she wanted him to concentrate his attention. The corners of his mouth curved upwards against her skin and he placed another kiss a little higher, moving closer to the dark curls. This time she went dead still, even though her entire body quivered. It must have finally clicked that it wasn't his fingers he was offering.

"Zuko."

Her voice was soft and a little questioning, but it held a note of pleading too.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

If she wasn't comfortable with this, he would stop. Zuko would not do anything she didn't like. A part of him was just curious; plus, some of his old crew had hinted during overheard conversations that it made a girl wild when a guy used his mouth down there. Katara bit her lip and held his gaze, though her legs remained spread for him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

She flushed and shook her head.

His eyes softened. Her shyness made him want to be gentle; she was normally so bold. He leaned up to kiss her on the mouth, whispering of how beautiful he thought her while he relaxed her again before working his way down. She quivered a little when he got lower and then he tasted her for the first time. Her breathing fragmented in an instant. Spirits, she was warm; it made him want to bury himself inside her, deep as he could go, but he couldn't do that. Not yet. So he continued to lick and tease, exploring the silky folds and the bud-like point of pleasure her body had revealed for him. All was great—at first. Then things didn't seem to go so well. The soft sounds that escaped her got less frequent and she began to wriggle a lot as if impatient; no matter what he tried, it was like he was almost getting her where she wanted, but not quite. Frustration prickled at his control. This was taking too long. He worried that he couldn't make it work for her, and he wasn't in the mood to keep trying when he was so conscious of his own aching arousal.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured.

She blinked at him in flushed confusion, but then he slipped his fingers inside her to heighten the sensations he was creating, curling in to find that spot she'd liked so much the last time. Much better. Soon, her hand fisted in his hair and she was making unintelligible sounds. He hoped that was enough; it had to be since he was almost at his limit. He pulled away from her completely—earning a small sound of protest—before he shifted position and eased his cock past her slickened folds like a blade finding its sheath. His breath caught at the rush of warmth and the way her body seemed to try to close all around him. Spirits, no matter how many times they did this, it still took him off guard for how mind-blowingly good it felt to become one with her.

Katara's fingers found his back, digging into his skin as she brought him down so she could kiss him. Her own essence lingered on his tongue and lips, but she didn't seem to care. It was weirdly arousing.

Zuko kissed her again, even as their bodies began to move together. It felt good. Too good. All that pleasure was building and building, getting more intense by the second. He was a fire about to spill everywhere. It didn't help that her body was trying to hold him trapped inside her, clamping down on his length in a maddeningly exquisite way. He felt himself teeter on the edge; any second he was going to succumb. Quickly, he tugged her legs up higher against him, allowing him to push even deeper, to hit the spot she needed. Katara closed her eyes and let her head fall back. A breathy moan escaped her lips.

Spirits. Spirits, spirits, spirits. He couldn't take this. Zuko bit down on her shoulder, helpless and trying to find an anchor to stop him from falling apart. It didn't help. She tensed and he hoped to all the heavens above that she'd got what she needed, because by that point he was too far gone. Everything just seemed to snap and explode; he was a juddering mess of sensation and pleasure, and all he could do was ride it out.

"Why are you saying sorry?"

Her voice came to him as if from outside a fog. He stilled when he realised he had been mumbling an apology over and over, and that her fingers were smoothing the damp hair from his face. All the high of his climax was gone and now he was just upset.

"I was too selfish," he confessed. "I should have paid more attention to you—made sure you were fully satisfied." He bit his lip and averted his gaze. "I didn't mean to disappoint you."

"Zuko, it's fine."

"It's not—"

"Just listen to me." She placed her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her. "You were good. Really."

He looked away. Even if he wanted to believe her, the fact was he knew he could have been better. She didn't love him, and now he couldn't even satisfy her properly when they had sex. He'd failed all around: too quick, too impatient. It made his stomach twist in unease.

Katara frowned and released him. "Are you that upset about it?"

He just shrugged. Shame kept him silent. A part of him wasn't even sure what he'd wanted when he'd chosen to have sex with her tonight. Sure, a large part of it had been to satisfy his undeniable desire to be with her, but there had been other motives tangled up in that: to prove that he could make her happy, even if she didn't love him; to prove in some way that he was worthy of her. Except he had let her down.

"Zuko." Her gaze sought his. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

He kept his mouth shut. She exhaled in obvious irritation.

"What's with you today? You've been so … " She trailed off, apparently unable to find the words to describe his behaviour.

"It's nothing," he muttered.

"It clearly isn't nothing."

He sighed and rolled away from her. Katara was still for a moment, but then she sat up next to him on the bed. Perhaps she hesitated again, because it was a few more seconds before she touched his shoulder.

"Hey," she said gently. "Is this about last night?"

He tensed.

"It is, isn't it? You've been acting all—"

"Just forget it."

"I can't just forget it! You can't say things and then try to shut me out again. If you're upset because I didn't give you a proper answer, then just say so!"

Again, he kept his mouth shut.

"Zuko—"

"Well, what if I am?" The words came out too loud, practically wrenched from him. He twisted around to face her. "What if it does bother me that you don't seem to want anything from me but sex? Though I guess I can't even get that right, so—"

"Zuko, stop." Her cheeks were much pinker, but she once more reached for his face. "Look, you've got it all wrong."

He jutted his bottom lip. "Do I?"

"Yes," she assured him, ignoring his sceptical tone. "It's not like that. Honestly."

"Then what _do_ you feel for me?"

His tone was low and frustrated, but his eyes had never looked more vulnerable. She brushed her thumb against his cheek.

"You scared me last night," she confessed. "Everything has been moving so quickly, and then you were demanding answers and I just felt trapped. That's the only reason I couldn't say anything."

His heart fluttered a little, but the part of him that had been wounded and let down too many times clung to stubbornness.

"That's not an answer," he pointed out.

She exhaled, fanning his lips with her breath. "Fine, then listen closely. I'm saying that I think I like you." Her eyebrow quirked. "Is that clear enough?"

It was as if everything stopped. He didn't breathe, his heart missed a beat, and even his brain needed a moment to fully fathom what she had just said. She liked him. He hadn't just been imagining things; she actually liked him.

"You do?" he couldn't help but ask, just to make sure.

Katara kissed him firmly on the mouth. "Idiot. I wouldn't want to be with you like this if I didn't."

His heart burst back into action, pounding and pounding. Zuko pulled her into his arms and kissed her again, wanting her close—just needing to express how much he was feeling in that moment. She liked him. The thought was an echo of elation in his mind, pushing back all the doubt and insecurity that had been choking him. There was only one thing left to do, really.

He broke away from the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, nuzzling her a little like an affectionate monkey-cat. "I really like you," he murmured, his tone soft and intimate. "You know that, right?"

Colour spread on her cheeks, though her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Yeah. You, um, weren't very subtle."

The corners of his mouth lifted to mirror her smile. "I guess not."

And for the first time, he didn't feel ashamed or nervous about that.

* * *

The cheeeeeeeese.

Also, I'm sort of floaty brain right now so I hope I got that smut scene FFN friendly enough; I deleted at least 1000 words to get it to this level of non-explicitness, and all that editing was driving me crazy, because my time on the computer has been short and sporadic thanks to work and family invading my house. I may come back later to fine tune things.

In any case, confessions have been made and we're at last on the final countdown (I hope you all got that song stuck in your head, nyuk nyuk). That said, I honestly can't say how many chapters are left. I am a poor judge. According to my outline, you're looking at 4 or so chapters (I say this knowing my outlines rarely coincide with reality and usually end up double the amount, so yeah, take that estimate with a grain of salt). But yeah, we're almost at the end. Huzzah!


	13. The Red Demon

StrawberryKris, since you've got your PM function turned off, I just wanted to say here a big, big thank you for the reviews! It was a pleasant surprise in my inbox. I'm glad you're enjoying my writing and stories! Thanks so much for taking the time to review! :)

* * *

 **The Red Demon**

Zuko was happy. It was a rare feeling and one he still half-expected to vanish; the universe had a knack for tugging the rug out from under his feet. Still, for the next few days nothing much happened to disturb his mood. His friends noted the change with varying mixtures of surprise, amusement and relief. Toph claimed she didn't trust this new positive Zuko, suggesting an assassin had offed him and replaced him with a doppelganger, but he knew she was only teasing. Probably. His uncle had also not been blind to the change in the young Fire Lord; Iroh had taken on a habit of grinning knowingly whenever he saw Zuko and Katara together.

Because Katara was the root of this new positivity. She liked him. She really liked him. He still felt a bit giddy when he thought about it.

"Okay, the smile is beginning to creep me out."

Zuko blinked and looked up to see Sokka folding his arms across his chest and squinting down at him. Zuko realised with a start that, yes, his lips had curved at the corners and he probably was smiling like a big dork floating on cloud nine.

"I think Toph's right," Sokka continued. "You're far too happy to be the real Zuko. Where's Mr Brooding Doom and Gloom gone, huh?"

Zuko rolled his eyes and stood up from his desk. "You're an idiot."

Sokka's mouth twitched. "I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying you're an idiot." He headed for the door, but paused when he noticed the other boy was following. "What?"

"What what?"

Zuko heaved a sigh. "You've been hanging around me all morning. It's weird. I told you I'm busy."

Sokka grinned and clasped his hands behind his head. "We're going to be brothers soon. Maybe I just want to get to know my brother more—see you at work doing your Fire Lordy thing."

"You already know me," was the flat response. "And my 'Fire Lordy thing', as you call it, is not exactly exciting."

It was just a lot of meetings, trawling through documents and petitions, placing his seal where necessary, and trying not to be killed by assassins. Okay, so the latter could be considered a bit more out of the ordinary for a standard working day, but it also kind of wasn't for Zuko. His life had been targeted so many times; he was more irritated by the whole assassin affair than frightened. It was inconvenient—especially with Katara's family visiting.

Sokka was not deterred by this obvious hint to clear off. Instead, he repeated that he wanted to spend time with his future brother and Zuko should just accept that. The Fire Lord rolled his eyes again and left his office. His personal guard were there to shadow him, as usual, but Sokka also quickened his pace so that they were walking in step with each other. All in all, Zuko was beginning to feel like he would never get a chance to just breathe and be alone. Someone was _always_ there. He couldn't even go toilet on his own. It was almost enough to pop his happy bubble. Almost. The moment his irritation swelled to the point of tipping his mood, he remembered that he and Katara had agreed to have afternoon tea together—just the two of them. She wanted to have a Pai Sho rematch as well. Then the goofy smile was back on his face and Sokka was calling him creepy again.

"Oh, shut up," Zuko huffed.

The other boy just laughed and continued to prattle on about nothing much in particular. Zuko resigned himself to his chatty companion and went about his daily tasks. It was while they were passing near what used to be the War Council Chamber that they came across Hisao talking to one of the palace servants. Zuko scrunched his nose and he was almost tempted to go back the other way—he couldn't stand the official or his patronising, offensive comments—but then Hisao grabbed the woman's wrist in what looked like a bruising grip. The words the older man said to her were too low to hear, but she didn't look happy. That was enough for Zuko; this was his home, after all, and that servant was one of his workers.

"Hey." Zuko marched over to them with Sokka and the royal guard hurrying to catch up. "What's going on?"

Hisao released the woman in an instant and bowed. "Fire Lord Zuko."

Zuko did not acknowledge the man's bow and just narrowed his eyes. "I asked you a question."

As he waited for Hisao's answer, his gaze flickered to the servant's face: average features, grey eyes, a tiny mole by her lip. A jolt passed through Zuko and his breath got trapped in his throat. It was Mayumi, the woman who had found him after he'd been poisoned.

"It is nothing, your majesty," Hisao said, distracting Zuko's attention back to him. "This servant just forgot her place for a moment. She knows fully well that such behaviour is not acceptable."

Mayumi lowered her gaze and seemed to shrink into herself. Zuko choked on the sense of wrongness building within him. What was this? Why did he feel so odd? She was just a servant and Hisao was just an annoying official. Iroh and Toph had even cleared them both of suspicion, so why did Zuko's instincts scream at him to be on alert?

Hisao did not seem to have any desire to linger. Zuko didn't want to let the man leave, but something in him whispered to be cautious—to not rush in just yet with demands for answers. So Zuko kept quiet. Once Hisao had departed, Sokka asked Mayumi if she was okay. She nodded and said that it was nothing. She didn't want to trouble anyone.

"Why are you here?" Zuko asked, narrowing his attention on her.

He didn't feel he had to be as cautious with her. The woman stiffened but kept her gaze lowered.

"I'm afraid I do not understand your question."

"You're assigned to the royal chambers, aren't you?" he elaborated. "There's no reason for you to be in this area of the palace."

Sokka shot him a surprised glance. Perhaps he noticed the interrogative tone that had crept into Zuko's voice. Mayumi explained that she was often asked to help with other chores around the palace when her own workload wasn't busy. The head servant did not like laziness.

She dipped her head in a slight bow. "Fire Lord Zuko has much to demand his attention. Perhaps you simply have not noticed me in these areas before."

No, he hadn't. That was what bothered him, he realised. Zuko was not unobservant, nor was he stupid; he had actually taken pains to become familiar with the servants and guards since he had been poisoned. He had learnt their names, learnt where they were assigned, learnt how long they had been working for the palace. It bothered him that Mayumi had appeared somewhere unexpected; it bothered him that she had been with Hisao and seemed to have incurred the man's displeasure. From what he had learned of her, she was a highly efficient and polite servant. Katara even favoured the woman.

Zuko forced his breathing to slow. "Perhaps you're right," he acknowledged. "I'll pay more attention now."

Her eyes darted to his and, for a moment—just a tiny moment—she did not look meek and like she wanted to vanish into the floor. Then the moment was gone. She lowered her head again and murmured the expected words so she could be dismissed. He did let her go, though his gaze never left her retreating back.

"Kenta," he said softly.

The guard straightened. "Your majesty?"

"I want you to follow Hisao. See where he goes, who he talks to, and what he does, but don't let him know you're there." His gaze flickered to the firebender on his left. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, Fire Lord Zuko."

The man bowed and hurried away in a flurry of red robes. Zuko ordered another guard to watch over Mayumi.

"What's going on?" Sokka asked him. "Why're you so interested in that woman and old Wispy Beard all of a sudden."

Zuko's brow creased. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Look, if this is about when you got poisoned, your uncle and Toph already interrogated her about that night. She was clean—just a random servant who found you and freaked out. As for the old guy—"

"I know," Zuko cut in.

It wasn't like he didn't know all of that, but something still niggled. He didn't like how both Hisao and Mayumi had been quick to dismiss their odd encounter as nothing. Sure, Hisao was a big enough jerk to go around manhandling servants, but why try to dismiss the whole affair? Hisao liked to complain about _everything_ ; it would have been more like him to go into full detail about what she had done wrong and why Zuko should have her punished. Plus, Hisao had never really approved of Zuko being the Fire Lord. The man's support had been grudging at best; it was only because Hisao was good at his job and they had no proof of any treachery that Zuko had allowed the man to stay in his position.

Zuko turned to face the two remaining guards and Sokka. "Can I trust you all to keep this to yourselves for now?"

The guards had no choice but to confirm they would say nothing. Sokka was less quick to submit. Instead, the Water Tribe boy gave him a squinty-eyed look of suspicion.

"Why?" he demanded. "What are you planning?"

"I don't want to waste this opportunity," Zuko explained. "I know what'll happen if my uncle or anyone else finds out. They'll worry and debate and I'll be shoved off somewhere with even more guards watching over me until the investigation is completed."

"Zuko—"

"I want them to be safe, Sokka." Zuko curled his hands into fists. "Katara, the baby—I want them to be safe. The assassin is targeting _me_. He or she isn't going to stop; they're only going to get more desperate, and what then? I can't risk that. I don't want to."

Sokka's shoulders slumped. "It's not like I don't understand, but Katara will never forgive me if you get hurt."

"I don't plan on getting hurt."

"Most people don't," Sokka pointed out, "but sometimes things just happen."

Zuko met the other boy's eyes grimly. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Sokka held his gaze for a long moment and then he heaved a sigh. "Fine."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Sokka said unhappily. "I'm still not sure if this is a good idea. You've had some pretty close calls with that assassin. Why do you think everyone has been so worried? We don't want anything bad to happen to you." He shook his head. "You shouldn't keep this quiet. Your uncle, Katara—everyone deserves to know if you think something is up."

"I know, but—"

"But I also understand what you're trying to do."

Zuko's eyes widened. "Then—"

"I won't say anything," Sokka confirmed. " _Yet._ I'm only agreeing now because I know you're reckless enough to do something even more stupid if I don't go along with what you want."

The two guards exchanged a glance. They seemed to agree, though were too conscious of their lower station to say as much to the Fire Lord. Zuko had the grace to look a bit sheepish; it was probably true. Still, he was tired of waiting. Being passive wasn't his style.

"It's not like I plan on rushing head first into danger," Zuko tried to defend. "Something just bothers me about what Hisao was doing with that woman; you saw how upset she looked. He could be threatening her or using her to get information. It can't hurt to do a little investigating."

"I'll admit Wispy Beard is a jerk, but do you really think he's the one targeting you?"

Zuko shrugged. "That's what we're going to find out."

Sokka suddenly cracked a grin. "Well, I have to say, this is way more interesting than watching you do boring paperwork."

Zuko frowned. "No one forced you to do that, you know."

"Actually, we all agreed to take turns keeping an eye on you when Katara can't be around. This morning was my turn."

Zuko resisted the urge to make a triumphant, albeit frustrated, sound. He knew it! He knew they'd all been up to something.

"So much for wanting to spend time with your future brother," he said dryly.

Sokka looped an arm around his shoulders. "Now that's where you're wrong: it's because you're my friend and soon-to-be family that I'm willing to put up with you." He pulled a face. "Especially when you keep creepy smiling to yourself about my sister in front of me. I do not want to think about what puts that smile on your face, okay? Just no."

Zuko's cheeks warmed, even as he rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

Still, he couldn't deny that he was warmed by their efforts. Just a little. It was nice to know his friends all cared so much. But that was why he didn't want to let this drag out. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. It was time to get to the bottom of this.

Mayumi and Hisao. He had to uncover the truth.

 **oOo**

Katara smoothed down the blue fabric and pivoted a little in front of the mirror. The palace tailor had been asked to make her a set of new dresses, so she had made sure to get a few in blue. Just because she was going to become a Fire Nation princess didn't mean she always had to wear red and gold. She'd told that to Zuko as well, but if she'd been expecting a fight from him, she'd been disappointed. He didn't mind what colours she wore; he just wanted her to be happy and comfortable. Besides, he liked it when she wore blue. And red. And if she wanted to wear pink, green or even orange, he'd support that as well. She was always beautiful to him. He was sure the citizens would find her beautiful as well.

"Dork," she muttered under her breath, though not without affection.

It wasn't as rare to hear compliments from him these days. In fact, he'd got much better at expressing his feelings verbally. Well, most of the time. He was still an endearing mixture of awkwardness and forwardness. Not that she minded. Every day she was with him was like watching a flower bloom: a new petal would be unfurled, taking shape in small gestures of affection that he would not have dared to do before; in the words he murmured just for her that sometimes made him blush and fumble, yet were still so sweet and full of earnestness. In the way he kissed her, touched her, made love to her.

Zuko had worked his way into her heart, and she knew now that she was more than happy to let him build a home there. She had fallen hard for him. Just like she always anticipated the moments when they could be together. Both of them had got so busy; she was often stuck learning etiquette and what would be expected from her as the Fire Lord's wife—it turned out that being a princess didn't just mean wearing nice clothes and looking pretty. There was a lot involved. The entire management of the palace servants and celebrations would fall to her as soon as they were married. She had to learn about economics, politics—all the things Zuko had learnt himself as a prince—just on the off-chance that she be expected to fill in for him should he fall ill or not be able to carry out his duties.

It was fortunate that Katara enjoyed learning. Still, even she had to admit it got tiring, and not just because she was pregnant. So many facts were being crammed into her head every day that her brain felt like mush; doing the crash course to becoming a princess was not fun. It was certainly more demanding than being a chieftain's daughter in a tiny, Southern Water Tribe village. But she knew that this work was important. The Fire Nation was in a fragile state, and she couldn't afford to be lax. Like Zuko, she had to do all she could to be a good ruler—not for him, not even for herself. It was for the people who were depending on them, but also the unborn child growing in her womb.

She wanted their child to be born into a world of peace and stability. She wanted to make this work.

Katara placed her hands over her stomach and gave the area a gentle rub. There was still no obvious bump, but the baby was growing. "Will you be a boy or girl, I wonder?" she murmured.

The sound of a throat clearing made her turn. Mayumi stood at the door, looking paler than usual.

"What is it?" Katara asked, and then she noticed the strain captured in the faint lines around the woman's eyes and mouth. "Is everything okay?"

Mayumi walked forward. "I need your help."

Katara's eyes widened in concern. "What happened?"

"It's my daughter." Her voice lowered, sounding pained and like it might break to nothing. "She's sick."

"Your daughter?" Katara blinked, not even having known the woman had a child. "Of course I'll help. Where is she?"

"Not in the palace. I can't bring her here—she's too ill. I shouldn't even be asking this of you, but you're a healer and I don't know what else to do since—"

"Yes, yes, of course," Katara said in a rush, moving forward to grip the woman's hands. "I'll come with you now."

She was supposed to meet Zuko soon, but she was sure he would understand if she was a little late. Besides, Mayumi looked so distressed. There was no way Katara could just abandon the woman or her child.

"I'll just pass a message to Zuko and—"

" _No._ "

Katara froze. Mayumi seemed to realise she'd been a bit too vehement with her response. The woman sucked in a breath and visibly forced herself to calm down.

"They'll try to stop you from leaving if you let them know," Mayumi pointed out. "You're going to be the Fire Lord's wife and you're carrying his child; they're not going to let you just walk out of the palace."

Katara's heart sunk. That was true. She didn't have quite the same wall of guards as Zuko, but she wasn't allowed to just wander around as she pleased either. Iroh had warned that the mood of the capital was too unpredictable; it was safer for her to just stay within the boundaries of the palace for now.

"Then what should I do?" Katara asked. "How am I supposed to leave with you?"

Mayumi unfolded the cloth she'd been holding tucked under her arm. It was servant's garb, just like what she was wearing. "This disguise will help."

Katara accepted the cloth, though her stomach twisted a little. All this secrecy made her feel a bit guilty. Still, the sense of urgency in Mayumi's voice and behaviour convinced her that she didn't have a choice; she'd never seen the woman so on edge. Clearly, Mayumi's daughter was very sick. Katara changed into the cherry-pink outfit and styled her hair to suit a servant.

"Lead the way," she encouraged.

Mayumi wordlessly ushered her out of the room. Katara was surprised to see that the guards were not at their usual posts. She didn't get time to dwell on the matter, as Mayumi was already hurrying ahead. Katara quickened her pace. They took a path that avoided all the busier corridors and walkways. Not that anyone who did catch sight of them blinked twice at the two females; Katara just looked like another servant. Soon, they were heading for the front gates. The usual crowd had gathered and were making a lot of noise. Katara thought she would have more trouble getting past the guards, but Mayumi slipped a few gold pieces into one of the men's hand and the next thing she knew they were outside the palace walls.

"That was unnervingly easy," Katara observed.

"I was prepared," Mayumi said, though she sounded a bit distracted. "This way; a carriage is waiting."

Katara hurried after the woman. The carriage was a simple affair and the seats uncomfortable. Mayumi seemed lost in her own thoughts, so Katara looked out the window while they passed through the different districts, gradually moving from elegant houses and clean streets to the far less pleasant, narrower streets where the lower classes dwelled. People were thinner here and the fabric of their clothes seemed more of a dull, reddish-brown than the vibrant reds she'd got used to seeing. The smell wasn't pleasant either: a mixture of human waste and rot. Eventually, the carriage stopped outside a small, rundown house.

"Is this it?" Katara asked.

Mayumi nodded, still in that distracted manner, and got out of the carriage. Katara followed. They entered the house, which at a glance was bereft of any furniture. It looked abandoned, like it hadn't been lived in for years—all undisturbed dust and emptiness. A shiver prickled down Katara's spine.

"What's going o—"

Her hands were suddenly yanked up hard behind her and she was forced against the wall. Pain throbbed through her jaw. Katara cried out in alarm and struggled against the tight grip, desperately trying to call upon her bending. No. She couldn't bend like this. Without her hands, she was useless. Panic welled within her. She struggled even more wildly.

"Don't resist," Mayumi urged. "I don't want to hurt you."

Katara snarled and rammed her head back against the woman. Or tried. She barely clipped Mayumi and a grunt was all she got in response; the grip on her hands never loosened. In fact, Mayumi tugged her wrists up even more against her back, making Katara hiss in pain. Her heart pounded. Anger and fear twisted through her gut. Why was this happening? Why was Mayumi attacking her?

"Why?"

The word slipped free, sounding too pathetic for Katara's tastes; it had been a scream of rage when it had still been trapped inside her. She had never expected to be betrayed like this. Mayumi had been so meek, so attentive.

"This is for your own protection," Mayumi told her in a low voice. "You've interfered too many times."

An awful suspicion took root then. It made Katara's blood run cold and a choking lump form in her throat. "It was you," she said in horror. "You're the assassin. You're the one who's been trying to kill Zuko all this time."

The red demon. That masked thing of deadly accuracy who had fired arrows to kill and who had faced her on the palace rooftops was Mayumi; the same woman who had washed the vomit from her hair—who had given her tips to help with morning sickness. Spirits, this could not be happening.

Mayumi pressed her whole weight into Katara's back, pinning her even more in place. The way Katara's arms had been twisted up behind her made it feel like they were going to break any moment; she'd had no idea Mayumi was this strong. Her eyes stung. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, intermingling with the coppery tang of her own blood; she'd bit her lip when she'd hit the wall.

"Why?" she demanded again, gasping for breath as helplessness and revulsion clawed their way up her chest. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to kill him?"

"You'll be safe here, Lady Katara," was all the woman replied. "I'll come release you once I'm finished."

Katara thrashed against the iron hands holding her down. "No! I won't let you hurt him! Let me go! Let me go, you—"

"I told you not to resist; I'd rather not take measures that will put your child at risk."

The cool warning made Katara freeze. Her heart thudded against her chest, bloodying itself against her ribcage. Spirits, no. She had to get free, but instead thick ropes were wrapped around her wrists and then her hands were bound to her ankles, leaving her trapped in an awful, contorted position. It hurt. It was utterly defeating. A pained sound forced its way out of her throat—not quite a sob, but almost.

"Don't," she begged, throwing her pride to the wind. "Please don't do this."

"I must. He will not tolerate failure again."

"He?" Katara seized on the word. "Who is he? Is he the one forcing you to do this? Please, just let me go and we can work out some—"

A soft laugh. "You misunderstand. It's my choice to follow him. He has just been getting a bit impatient."

Katara squeezed her eyes shut; hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt like the world had been turned upside down and everything she had thought she knew was slipping through her fingers. She felt like she had when Hama had turned on her: scared and alone and so bitterly betrayed.

"Do you even have a daughter?" she asked in a broken voice.

Spirits, she hated how weak she sounded.

Mayumi inhaled sharply, though it was a moment before she spoke. "Her name was Aoi."

Fresh tears wormed their way out of Katara's eyes. _Was._ Past tense. Aoi was dead.

"She really did get sick. I didn't lie about that." Mayumi turned the other way. "But there was no healer like you around then."

"Wait!" Katara tried to move, but she was too trapped and contorted. All she could do was watch the woman get farther from her field of vision. "Please wait! Mayumi!"

But the older woman kept walking, and then even the sound of her footsteps had gone. Katara was on her own.

* * *

I'm not very subtle and left a lot of clues, so I suspect a lot of people were expecting this development.

That said, since no one commented on it, I'm curious if anyone picked up on the mask itself being a clue. The description of Mayumi's mask is basically a red hannya mask used in Japanese Noh threatre (the mask that represents a peasant girl who has become a demon). But I guess you would only know that if you know Noh theatre, haha.

Lastly, it's almost 6:30am in the morning and this isn't edited. So yeah, apologies for typos, etc. Let me know if there's anything glaring and I'll go back and fix it.


	14. To Rule a Nation

**To Rule a Nation**

Katara was late. Zuko frowned and drummed his fingers against the table. A pot of tea and a light snack had been prepared. The Pai Sho board had already been set up and only needed the other player to arrive so a game could begin. Except he had no idea where his would-be opponent had gone. His brow creased in faint lines. This wasn't like her. Katara had been the one who had got all of this organised; she had said she would be waiting for him in the garden. Where was she?

One of the guards—Nobu, who was normally on night duty—cleared his throat. "Uh, Fire Lord Zuko, we could send someone to—"

"It's fine," Zuko cut in a bit gruffly.

His cheeks felt too warm. The other guard coughed and said he was sure Lady Katara would turn up soon. Zuko's blush darkened. Even his guards had picked up on the fact he'd been jilted. At least Sokka wasn't around to tease him now; the other boy had gone off to spend time with his family. Small consolations were better than nothing.

Zuko sighed and went back to drumming his fingers against the table. Movement from near the columns by the garden entrance made him perk up; his shoulders slumped again when he saw cherry-pink robes. It was just a female servant. The guard stationed at the entrance blocked her path.

"I have a message from Lady Katara," the servant said in a clear, carrying voice.

Zuko sat up straighter, though not just because Katara's name had been mentioned. That was Mayumi's voice. He frowned and got to his feet. The firebender stationed to follow her was nowhere in sight, though that didn't necessarily mean anything; the point of that man's role was not to be seen. Zuko moved closer to the pair. The guard was busy telling Mayumi to give him the message so he could pass it on; only those authorised were allowed in the garden today.

"Wait," Zuko said, holding up his hand. "Let her through."

Mayumi's gaze flickered to his. The guard stepped aside without a word, allowing her to enter the garden.

"Fire Lord Zuko," she murmured, lowering into a bow.

His expression remained neutral. "You have a message for me from Katara?"

"Yes." She reached into her sleeve. "It's right here."

Her hand whipped out from her sleeve. Zuko caught her wrist in a crushing grip; a thin blade glinted between her fingers. It would have been jabbed into his neck had he been a second slower.

"Don't think I'll make it that easy for you," he hissed.

Her nostrils flared. Shouts started up from the guards as they realised what was happening. Mayumi twitched and then her free hand moved—too fast for him to stop her this time. There was a soft clink as something hit the pebbled path. Zuko barely had a chance to react; light exploded in a blinding flare, clawing right into his eye sockets. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the damage had been done. His world had become a painful blur of white flashes. No doubt the guards had suffered similarly.

"Fire Lord Zuko!"

"Damn it, I can't see!"

"Get to the Fire Lord!"

The shouts were all around him. Zuko tuned the voices out and zeroed in on the soft puffs of breath he could hear in front of him—on the rustle of fabric and the crunch of a boot against pebbles. There! He sidestepped and blocked just as she aimed a kick for his groin. Quick as a flash, he tugged her forward with the grip he had on her wrist and then shoved hard, knocking her clean off her feet and pushing her down against the ground. She struggled viciously. His vision was still a blurred mess. Something slashed through his sleeve, just nicking his skin. In seconds, the area went numb. Zuko swore. The paralysis effect was already beginning to spread.

"It's over for you," she said with a little laugh. "That's shirshu venom. One touch is all it takes."

Zuko knew from experience that this was true. Given no choice, he desperately called upon his inner fire and pushed it out from his body in a shield of flames. Mayumi shrieked and shoved him off her just as his muscles turned useless and he became as limp as a boneless fish. Zuko's heart pounded sickeningly. Her form flickered before him in a blur of cherry-pink, slowly solidifying into a clearer image. Of course, his vision chose that moment to get better.

She tightened her grip on the knives she now held in each hand and moved to straddle him. Her exposed skin was covered in burns and a part of her hair and robes were still smoking, but she didn't seem to care. If anything, her eyes just gleamed with a fractured sort of hate; it was so similar to how his sister had looked before she'd shot lightning at him—before he'd had to redirect it back at her and force her madness into submission—that it made his heart turn to ice. What had he done to deserve this animosity?

"Stand down!" Nobu yelled.

The guards had recovered their vision and moved to surround Mayumi, fire glowing around their fists. She only laughed.

"Go ahead," she taunted. "Do you think you'll be faster?"

Nobu's mouth twisted; unlike them, she had nothing to lose. Zuko closed his eyes in resignation. He couldn't move, but he could still breathe. So he exhaled a breath of flames. The scream that was ripped from her made him wince to his core. He knew her pain; he knew it intimately. But she had backed him into a corner. Zuko would not choose death just to spare her. The guards took advantage of her distraction and knocked her off him with a wave of fireballs.

"Surrender!" Nobu ordered.

Killing her would mean losing the information she carried; there was nothing to be gained from such a move. Still, lethal force would be used if it came to that.

Mayumi lurched to her feet. One side of her face was raw and ruined; she must have turned at the last second to avoid a direct hit. The blades were still in her hands and she bared her teeth like a hissing, spitting thing that looked more animal than human. Suddenly, she threw one of the knives and got Nobu in the neck. He gasped and gurgled, clutching at his throat. Blood spilled between his fingers. Zuko could only watch, helpless. Some of the feeling had returned to his limbs—not enough venom had got into his system to keep him down for long—but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough at all.

The two other guards attacked. Mayumi dodged the flames like an airbender, twisting and weaving through the fire before lashing out in a slash of venom-coated metal. It was impressive she could still do so much; Zuko knew how much pain she had to be in, but it seemed her determination was enough to numb her injuries. Another guard fell. She spun around to face the remaining firebender, her body shifting into a predatory crouch.

"Stop," Zuko choked out. "Enough of this. I'm the one you want. You don't need to hurt anyone else."

"You would sacrifice yourself for your guards?" A laugh escaped her. "As if I would believe that."

Zuko struggled against the paralysis, arms trembling as he tried to push himself up. "I'll fight you myself."

The lone guard stood protectively in front of him. Toshiyuki was his name. Zuko remembered; he'd made a point to learn all their names. It was the least he could do for the men who had sworn to give up their lives to protect him.

"Stay back," Toshiyuki urged. "It is my duty to keep you safe."

"Fuck your duty!" Zuko managed to get onto his knees. His body felt like lead, but he had to straighten. He had to. "Do you think it'll mean anything if you die for me now? It's just a waste of life, and I won't have that, so _you_ stay back! That's an order!"

The guard didn't budge from his position. Instead, he shot off a stream of fire. Mayumi dodged the attack and went for the kill. Zuko growled in frustration and forced himself to move; he strained against every protesting muscle, every bit of venom still lingering in his system, just so he could grab onto the back of Toshiyuki's robe. With another growl, he yanked hard.

"I said stay back!" he hissed.

Everything happened all at once: Toshiyuki landed on the ground in a graceless heap, pain surged through Zuko's wakening nerves, and Mayumi froze. Her knife had been stopped with Zuko's hand, piercing right through his palm. Blood seeped free and trailed down his skin. Sweet spirits. That hadn't been intentional; he'd been aiming to grab her wrist. The shock of it made him dizzy.

"You," she said in disbelief. "You actually risked yourself to protect him?"

Zuko pulled himself together and swiped at her with his uninjured hand in a fire-shadowed fist; he'd barely moved his arm when his body gave out on him. Damn it, the paralysis still hadn't completely worn off. He stumbled to his knees, sluggish and weak. The burst of adrenaline had left him like smoke vanishing into the air. Pain throbbed through his hand in nauseating waves; the knife was still impaling his palm.

"No!" Toshiyuki scrambled to his feet.

"Don't!" Zuko snarled. "Just stay there!"

He wouldn't have another life on his hands. He wouldn't let another senseless death happen just because this woman wanted him dead.

"I'm your target," he gritted out, holding Mayumi's gaze. "Toshiyuki has nothing to do with this. Don't kill him."

Mayumi's lip curled. It was then that he noticed the bo shuriken in her hand. Quick as lightning, she threw the blade and struck Toshiyuki's thigh. More shirshu venom must have coated the tip, as the guard collapsed and stopped struggling in an instant.

"Very well, Fire Lord Zuko," she said calmly, though the whole effect was just eerie since her face was half-ruined and she was covered in burns. "Consider him spared."

Toshiyuki yelled and demanded that she fight him instead—begged that she not do anything to harm Zuko. The man's distress was palpable, and it made a lump form in Zuko's throat. There was no mistaking Toshiyuki's sincerity: this wasn't about fulfilling a duty; the guard just didn't want to see Zuko get killed.

"Shut up!" Mayumi snapped. "This boy who dares to call himself our ruler deserves to die!"

Zuko looked up at her from where he sat slumped at her feet, blood pooling from his hand. "Why?" he asked. "What have I done to earn so much hate?"

Her face twisted into a snarl. "The fact you even have to ask is sickening!"

She shifted to attack. He held his uninjured hand up in a gesture for her to wait.

"I just want to understand," he said quickly. "If you're going to kill me anyway, at least let me know what I did wrong."

Mayumi stared straight into his eyes. Though she did not wear the red demon mask in that moment, he could see its awful expression captured in her features: a consuming rage, an endless sorrow, like a scream that would never end. Zuko bit his lip and prayed that she would take the bait. Please, please let her keep talking. His body needed a little more time to recover from the shirshu venom. Dying was not an option. There were so many things he still needed to do—so many things he had barely started to experience. If he died here, he would never see Katara again or get to tell her that he loved her. He would never even see their baby. The thought made everything in him recoil.

Somehow, he had to live.

Mayumi removed a new blade from her sleeve; it glinted in the light. "I had a daughter, you know," she said softly. "Aoi. She was beautiful—had the most infectious laugh. I could listen to it all day." Her grip tightened on the knife. "But she got sick. A lot of people in my town got sick. The water was polluted, there wasn't enough food. People starved, disease was rife, and though we kept pleading and pleading, no help came from the capital." Her lips curled into an ugly smile. "Ring any bells now?"

All the breath seemed to vanish from Zuko's lungs. Mayumi laughed without humour.

"Of course you know my town isn't the only one like that," she continued. "There are so many others—Shin Ra, Jang Hui. The Fire Lords swore an oath to protect the people of the Fire Nation, and instead they abandoned them to die. They've been letting them die for a hundred years."

He closed his eyes. "I'm trying to change that, but the war just ended and—"

"Trying?" A snarl escaped her lips. "Don't you dare say you've been trying! The petitions are still coming in; the people are still dying! They're poor, starving, drinking contaminated water every day that only makes them sicker! And what have you done, Fire Lord Zuko? What have you done?" She got right up in his face, her own burnt and vicious. "You've thrown celebrations. You've lived in luxury, and all the nobles around you have enjoyed that luxury with you. You're no better than any other Fire Lord, content to bleed the people dry and build a kingdom upon the corpses of those you swore to serve!"

Zuko met her gaze. "That's not true," he said quietly. "When I heard about Shin Ra, I gave the order to send food and clean water to the town, along with a team of our best healers. I did the same for all the others that have been suffering. The officials told me we didn't have the money or the resources; they disparaged me and called me an idealistic child behind my back—said I would ruin this nation before a month was out."

Mayumi looked as if she had been slapped.

"And the truth is we really _don't_ have the resources," Zuko continued. "My father put all of the nation's wealth into developing war machines and funding the army and navy; we're facing heavy reparations from the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes, and our crops haven't been good this season." He balled his uninjured hand into a fist. "But I know these towns and villages are depending on me. I swore an oath to protect all of the Fire Nation when I became Fire Lord, so I gave the orders anyway. We've been selling royal treasures to fund everything for the most part, but Katara has offered to assemble groups of waterbenders to come and work with her to purify the water in stricken areas, like she did for Jang Hui, and—"

"Stop!" Mayumi pointed the blade at him; her hand trembled. "You—this can't be true. He said that—he said you'd been—"

"I don't know what Hisao has told you, but I would never abandon my people."

She stilled and her eyes narrowed. "Hisao? What do you—"

A fan suddenly knocked the blade out of her hand. A hiss escaped her lips and she spun to confront the newcomer—too late. Blasts of fire knocked her backwards, the force of which made her soar through the air and crash against the cherry tree with a sickening thunk.

"Zuko!"

Suki came running. Behind her was a line of palace guards. No doubt they had been alerted to the situation by all the shouting and fire.

"Thank goodness," Suki murmured, pausing to catch her breath. "I thought we were too late."

Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but then another flash bomb went off near the cherry tree. He shielded his eyes. When the light faded and his vision cleared, Mayumi was gone. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised; he was pretty sure she was one of the legendary Yuyan assassins.

"Damn it!" one the guards hissed. "I can't believe she got away. Is that woman really a demon?"

Zuko got to his feet. His body had at last recovered full functionality, though his right hand was still useless. "Tend to the injured!" he ordered, signalling to some of the guards. "The rest of you come with me. She can't have got far!"

They couldn't afford to lose her now. Dangerous as she was, she was still just the puppet in this scheme. It was the real mastermind they needed. The guards moved to carry out his orders, but Suki stopped Zuko from leaving by placing her hand on his arm.

"You should get that treated first," she said, gesturing at the knife impaling his palm. "Lucky you have Katara to—

Zuko froze. It felt like his heart had turned to ice as well.

" _I have a message from Lady Katara."_

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no."

Everyone stared at him in a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"What?" Suki demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Katara!" Zuko exclaimed. "She didn't come here to meet me, and then—"

But he couldn't finish his sentence. Instead, he wrenched the knife out of his hand with a choked hiss and tossed it away from him. Then he was running, ignoring the pain, ignoring the shouts of his guards, ignoring Suki's demands for him to wait up. All he could do was keep moving. An awful suspicion had entered his mind, and there was only way to banish it.

"Mayumi," he growled under his breath. "What have you done?"

 **oOo**

It was so quiet. Katara lay on her side, still bound and trapped in a contorted position. Her skin felt raw from where she'd rubbed against and tried to slip free of the ropes. Nothing had budged. Gritting her teeth, she continued her slow shuffle towards the other room, dragging herself centimetre by painful centimetre on the floor. Maybe she could find something in there to cut the ropes. Calling for help hadn't worked; all she'd achieved was a sore throat. It was possible that all the houses in the area were abandoned. Or maybe someone had heard her shouting, but they just didn't want to get involved. Fear did strange things to people.

Katara paused to catch her breath. Moving like this was hard work. A muffled noise drifted to her ears. She froze, heart pounding. That was the first sound she'd heard outside her own making in what felt like hours. It sounded like it was coming from inside the house as well.

"Hey!" she yelled, though her voice came out hoarse. "Is someone there?"

The sound came again, still muted. Was that human? A groan?

"Damn it," she hissed under her breath.

She tried to increase her pace, but it was so hard to even move while her hands were bound to her ankles. If only she could get her hands free.

"Hey!" she tried again. "Can you hear me?"

There was a sound that might have been a moan or a yes; it was too slurred to tell. Still, that was definitely human. Relief swept through her. She wasn't alone in this place, but it didn't sound like her companion was in good condition.

"I'm trying to get to you," Katara explained, "but I'm tied up and can't move very fast. What about you? Are you hurt? Can you move?"

More muffled noises. Then a voice came: older than her, male, and clearly in pain.

"Lady Katara, is—is that you?"

Her eyes widened. "Kenta?"

"Thank the spirits you're alive." Some coughing. "I can't move; neither of us can. I only just managed to get the gag off."

"There's someone else with you?"

"Yes. It's—"

The sound of the front door opening and shutting made Katara freeze. She twisted her neck and stared up at the man who had entered. His face was hidden in shadow, but when he stepped into the light, all she could do was recoil. It was like looking at a nightmare from the past: in her mind, she saw the Spirit Oasis and the firebender who had tried to kill the Moon Spirit—that monster who had forced Yue to sacrifice her life. Same square jaw, same brown eyes, same cruel determination. The similarity had never been so strong, but now she wasn't surprised by the knowledge she had learnt since their first meeting; this man and Zhao were indeed brothers. It seemed they might even be of the same ilk.

"Yuji," she said, putting a name to the face. "You—what are you—"

"Lady Katara," he greeted, lowering his head in a mocking bow.

"No!" Kenta yelled. "Stay away from her, you bastard!"

Yuji laughed. "I see the pests have woken. How's that old fool Hisao? Still alive?"

Kenta swore and the groans—the pained noises she realised were now coming from Minister Hisao—started up again. Her stomach twisted. This was all wrong. Yuji had seemed polite and courteous whenever he had spoken to her, but then she should have learnt by now that appearances could be deceiving. A smile could just as easily turn into a snarl.

"What are you going to do with us?" she asked.

It was surprising how calmly she could speak. She knew she was afraid. Unease prickled all over her skin. The scent of danger was thick in the air, getting in her nostrils, her throat. It clawed its way into her chest and made her heart jump and flutter—warned her to stay far away from this man. It reminded her that she was bound and helpless, and Kenta and Hisao were in no position to fight either.

"Well," Yuji said, letting his hand glow with flames, "by now Mayumi should have completed her task. That just leaves me to finish this farce."

"Farce?"

She refused to accept or even acknowledge the former part of his words.

"Yes." Yuji's face twisted in disgust. "Pretending to be your supporter has been so tedious. You and the Fire Lord both." He spat on the ground near her knee; she supposed she should be glad the bit of spittle didn't actually get on her. "To think that he tainted himself and his bloodline with a Water Tribe peasant like you. It just goes to show that his father was right: Fire Lord Zuko is worthless. All it took was you spreading your legs for him to make him lose his way."

Anger pulsed inside her, deep like a blood-pounding drum. "You're wrong."

"Oh?" Yuji's voice, if it was possible, became even crueller. "How so? We all know the only reason you got engaged to the Fire Lord is because he fucked you like the little whore you are and got you pregnant. It's called damage control." He eyed her in a measuring way. "Then again, maybe you calculated that. Maybe it was your plan all along to get with his child. It must have been easy for you to seduce him with your—"

"Shut up!"

Katara's chest heaved. She wished she could get free. She wished she could smack the leer off his face with the biggest water whip she could create. The way he looked at her: sizing her up—making her feel naked and dirty and objectified—repulsed her to the core. He had no right to speak about her that way. He had no right to reduce her relationship with Zuko into something so calculating and—and _degrading_. Sure, the first time they'd had sex had arisen from impulses and had ended on a sour note, but Yuji had no idea what he was talking about. She would have never used Zuko in such a way. Not ever.

"You're disgusting!" she spat, glaring at him.

His eyes glinted. "On the contrary, the only disgusting thing here is you. It sickens me to think what has become of this nation because of your influence. All this talk of unions and harmony between the Fire Nation and Water Tribes—I refuse to accept it! Fire Lord Zuko has proven himself unfit to be our ruler, and you and that abomination growing inside you will never get anywhere near the throne if I can help it!"

Rage swelled in her chest. "So, that's it?" she demanded. "That's your reason for doing all this? Because I'm Water Tribe?"

"What other reason do I need?"

Katara opened her mouth to respond, but Kenta got there before her; the guard screamed profanities and threats from where he was trapped in the other room, enraged that Yuji had spoken such foul things and now planned to do her harm. That was reassuring. At least someone was on her side. Still, Katara was confused.

"Mayumi wanted to keep me safe," she pointed out. "Aren't you two working together? She won't be pleased if you hurt me."

He smiled unnervingly. "That woman is a convenient tool and nothing more. She took it into her head that you and the child could be spared, and I encouraged her because I knew it would be so much easier to finish you off once she brought you here." A glint of distaste entered his eyes and his smile faded. "Still, imagine my surprise when my assassin started pleading for your life—you, a Water Tribe piece of filth."

Katara swallowed at the look in his eyes. Those eyes promised murder. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She struggled desperately at the ropes—even just to get her fingers free. The prickles of danger were getting worse by the second.

"It really is sickening," he continued, stepping forward, "but no matter. I don't have to hold back anymore. Everything is in place now: Mayumi will take care of the Fire Lord, Hisao made himself the perfect scapegoat to take the fall for your death with all his idiotic outspokenness, and I will be free to continue with my plans."

"You're insane," she said, barely able to comprehend how this man's mind worked.

"I'm not."

Except that was exactly how he looked: eyes intense and flickering with a crazed sort of determination. He really was a mirror image of his brother.

"I just know there's only one way to deal with the likes of you." He took another step closer. "You're like a disease; you'll contaminate everything if we let you live. Just look at how you've corrupted the Fire Lord. Even the opposition to your marriage has begun to decrease." His fingers dug into her hair, pulling her up from the ground. "That's why I'm going to finish what my brother started. I won't let Zhao's death be in vain!"

Katara's heart seemed to get stuck in her throat, but she didn't let her fear show in her eyes. She confronted him boldly and spat in his face; it was all she had left to show her defiance. Yuji growled and raised his flame-encased hand to strike. The fire was hot against her skin—a caress without contact that promised of all the pain to come.

 _Is this it?_ her mind thought in sick resignation. _Is this how it ends?_

Bound. Unable to even fight back. Kenta shouted and Hisao groaned, not even within her sight. The reminder of their presence was not comforting. The two men would be next; she could see it in Yuji's face. His grip on her hair tightened, tugging on her scalp and making tears prickle in the corners of her eyes.

"Die," he said coldly.

Katara's breathing hitched. Suddenly, there was a sickening thwack. He jolted forward, eyes widening. Blood spurted and splattered on her face—little drops of red that painted her skin. An arrow had pierced through his neck. A second thwack sounded, followed by another and another. The fire vanished from his hand and the grip on Katara's hair relaxed, letting her collapse against the ground in an awkward heap. She struggled to make sense of what was happening.

"B-bitch," Yuji choked out, blood bubbling from his lips as he tried to twist around to face his attacker. "You—you dare to—"

But he couldn't get the words out; his voice trailed off into a gargled mess and he fell forward, landing face first on the floor. His body twitched. Arrows stuck out of his shoulder, legs and neck. Mayumi stood in the doorway and lowered her bow. She was covered in burns, her face a jarring mess of ravaged flesh. Katara was too frozen to do more than blink.

"I'm sorry," Mayumi said simply.

Breath returned to Katara's lungs. It cleared her head—made time unstick and her body remember how to move. In the background, Kenta was demanding to know what had happened. Neither she nor Mayumi responded to him. Instead, Katara's gaze remained fixed on the assassin in front of her.

"Zuko?" she asked.

"Alive."

Relief swept through her, making her feel a bit lightheaded and like her heart could finally return to its natural rhythm. She had not realised how scared she had been for him until that moment.

"He'll come for you soon," Mayumi said, turning the other way. "I made sure to lead them here."

"Wait! Don't just—"

But the woman had apparently done all she had intended and was just as swift to leave as she had appeared. Katara was left staring at the open door. She didn't know how to feel. Mayumi had tried to kill Zuko multiple times—had lied to her and betrayed her—but the woman had also just saved her life. It was too confusing.

Fortunately, Mayumi had not been lying about help being on the way; Zuko did arrive not long after, along with Suki and some of his elite guard. Katara wasn't prepared for the lump of emotion that got stuck in her throat when she caught sight of him, or how good it felt when he cut through the ropes and pulled her into his arms. The embrace was almost crushing, but it was exactly what she needed. His warmth, the strong thrum of his heartbeat. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she buried her face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Dimly, she was aware of Suki heading into the other room to help Kenta and Hisao while some of the other guards dealt with Yuji's body.

"I thought I lost you," Zuko murmured. His voice was so small and vulnerable it barely seemed to belong to him. "Don't scare me like that."

A tiny, hiccup-like laugh escaped her lips. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

Zuko just held her tighter. Neither of them wanted to let go. It wasn't until Suki cleared her throat that Katara finally pulled back. A smile curved the Kyoshi Warrior's mouth. Zuko went a bit pink, but Katara refused to be embarrassed. She stood up with him and went to grip his hand, not wanting to lose contact. Her palm brushed against fabric and he flinched a little. Surprised, she saw what looked like a ripped portion of his robe wrapped around his hand; the cloth was soaked in blood.

"You're hurt!" she exclaimed. "Why did you come here injured? Why didn't you say anything?"

His brow furrowed. "You were more important."

He said it like it was a fact—just a simple thing that should have been obvious. Katara felt heat bloom on her cheeks and spread to the roots of her hair. Sometimes, he was so awkward, but when he came out with statements like that as if it was nothing, it always took her off guard. There was no doubt he meant every word.

"Idiot," she murmured.

She unwrapped the bandage and saw the ugly wound underneath. It was bad—the kind that could cause a lot of nerve damage and complications. The big dummy should have got it treated straight away. In fact, Katara could have hit him in frustration for being so careless, but instead she gloved her hands in water and began healing the wound. It would take more than one session to get his mobility back to normal, but at least she could seal up everything. Once finished, she kissed his palm, treasuring the moment of knowing he was okay—that they were both okay. He seemed to understand her feeling because he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Thanks," he said softly.

Their eyes met. Again, Suki cleared her throat.

"You can undress each other with your eyes—or, heck, just undress each other—as much as you like once we're back at the palace and you're alone," Suki said with a hint of amusement. "In the meantime, Katara, we could do with your healing powers. Minister Hisao is in bad shape."

Right. There were still people who needed her help.

Katara squeezed Zuko's hand one last time before letting go to tend to Hisao. The minister looked battered and had a swollen lump on his head; he was also suffering from a nasty concussion. She tried to get him to follow her finger, but he could hardly focus on the digit. Frowning, she set to work. It wasn't easy—injuries to the head were so much trickier—but she soon had him sitting up a bit straighter and the awareness returning to his eyes.

"Thank you," he said once she was finished.

The words surprised her. Hisao had made it clear he had never approved of her or her engagement to Zuko, but just then he had almost sounded sincere. Albeit, even if it did look as if he'd swallowed a whole lemon just to get the words out.

She nodded in acknowledgement. Hisao grasped her wrist before she could move away. His touch was oddly hesitant.

"Yes?" she asked. "Are you hurt somewhere else?"

Hisao struggled for a moment. "I was wrong."

A blank stare.

"About you," he elaborated. "You—you might just be what this nation needs. You and Fire Lord Zuko."

Her breath caught and then a warm smile curved her lips. "I hope so."

The man didn't smile in return, but she could see the acceptance in his eyes. He didn't even look like he was sucking on lemons now. Somehow, it was enough.

She left him to be fussed over by the guards and went to heal Kenta. The firebender was explaining to Zuko how he had ended up captured with Hisao. She only caught the end part—where Kenta had tried to help Hisao, who was being attacked, and had got hit from behind with a paralysis dart.

"They seem to be pretty fond of those," Zuko said in a wry tone.

Katara wasn't sure what Zuko meant by that, but he didn't bother to explain and just sighed. It was obvious he was still frustrated by how things had ended. Resolving this matter wasn't going to be easy since Yuji was dead and Mayumi was gone; it was something they all understood. Still, Katara was just glad they were alive and together again.

She slipped her hand in Zuko's and glanced up at his face. "It's going to be okay," she said.

The look in his eyes hinted there were many things he wanted to tell her, but all he did was tighten his grip. "Right."

Suki joined them and suggested they head back to the palace. There was nothing more to be gained from sticking around in this place. No one argued. Katara, if she was to be honest, still felt a bit jittery and her skin crawled when she saw the spots of blood on the ground where Yuji's body had fallen and had since been removed. It was a reminder of how close she had come to death. Not that she let a peep of her disquiet escape; she didn't want people to think her weak. It was bad enough she had been unable to protect herself—bad enough that she had walked right into the trap. Better to just leave this place and put the whole thing behind her. Plus, she really did believe everything was going to be okay. Or maybe she just hoped.

On the way back, while seated in the carriages that had been arranged for them, Zuko asked Hisao what had really happened between the minister and Mayumi earlier that morning. There were some things that still troubled him about the whole affair.

"You have to admit," Zuko pointed out, "it did look suspicious."

Hisao turned up his nose. "I'm offended that you would think I'd betray you, Fire Lord Zuko."

"I never said that," Zuko said hastily.

Though it was obvious he had thought it. Hisao hadn't been subtle with his disapproval. Yuji had pointed out quite correctly that the man had been one of the more vocal voices of opposition to many of Zuko's mandates, not to mention had been especially critical of the wisdom of marrying a girl from the Water Tribes. It was why Yuji had tried to use the minister as a scapegoat. Why would people have suspected Yuji—the guy who was always quick to defend Katara and Zuko—when someone like Hisao was going around saying all sorts of disparaging things?

"Yuji's father was one of my friends," Hisao admitted after a moment, not meeting anyone's gaze. "He died when Zhao and Yuji were still young. I took it upon myself to keep an eye on the boys, but, well, we all know what happened with Zhao. As for Yuji—" a sigh escaped his lips "—he changed after his brother's death. I saw him a few times with that servant woman; I thought they were lovers."

Zuko pressed his palm to his forehead. "I see."

Hisao looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, I knew Yuji wouldn't listen to me if I told him not to get involved with a peasant, so I tried to warn the woman off instead."

Except Mayumi and Yuji had not been lovers—at least, Katara did not think that had been the case. Mayumi had just been his assassin: a tool Yuji had manipulated by using her anger and grief against her. The whole thing left a bad taste in Katara's mouth. Perhaps the others felt the same, as no one much felt like speaking after that. She didn't even want to think about it anymore, so she shifted closer to Zuko and intertwined their fingers. Then she closed her eyes and blocked out the world. Unfortunately, it didn't stop the memories from replaying in her mind.

Fire. Arrows. A face ravaged by burns. The images continued to haunt her for a long time.

 **oOo**

It was a new moon that night, though the sky was so clouded with the rain that had set in that it made no difference there was no moon. Katara couldn't even see the stars. Her bending was a bit weaker as well—it always was during this phase of the lunar cycle—but the rain helped to mitigate her unease. Water was her element and the pitter-patter of droplets was a soothing lullaby after the day's stress. It felt like it was washing everything away: the fear, the tension.

So much had gone wrong so quickly, yet they had also been lucky. The death toll of the day was only one: Yuji himself. Nobu and the other guard who had been taken down by Mayumi had been in a critical condition, but Master Pakku had attempted to heal the men—a shock in itself considering his views about gender and bending roles—and Katara had been able to do the rest upon her return. It would be a while before either of them resumed their duties, but at least they were alive. Two other guards, along with the man who had been assigned to follow Mayumi, had been found bound within the palace; their pride was the only thing that had been injured. None of them could forgive themselves for failing to stop Mayumi. Not that Zuko or Katara had held it against them. Mayumi was a skilled assassin; both were just glad no one had been killed. Still, it was much harder for Katara to forgive herself.

She moved closer to the balcony's edge. The rain created wet trails against her skin and dampened her robe. Katara breathed in deeply.

"You're getting wet."

She stilled at the sound of Zuko's voice. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his hands on her stomach where a baby bump would eventually form. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the embrace. Her hands settled on top of his.

"Now you are too," she replied.

His lips curved against her neck. "I know."

They stood in silence for a while, raindrops falling around them. It was reassuring to have him close like this. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, strong and steady. His touch was warm and chased the tension from her limbs. Yet even then there was a part of her that felt like it was still trapped in that house; it remembered being bound and helpless, and how nothing she had been able to do had stopped Yuji from coming closer. It remembered being weak.

"I can't stand it," she confided in a whisper—so small it was more like an exhalation of air.

"Hrm?"

"Yuji. I couldn't stop him; he was going to kill me, and I couldn't fight back or do anything. I was even stupid enough to fall for Mayumi's lies, and I—"

"Hey." He turned her around in his arms so she was facing him, and then his hands were on her face. "Where's all this coming from all of a sudden?"

"Because I should have been able to stop him! I've trained for so long not to be weak like this—so I'd be able to fight and protect the people I love—but I messed up; I just made myself a burden, and I—"

"So you got caught off guard. So what?" His thumb brushed her cheek. "You're strong, Katara. One of the strongest benders I know. If you hadn't been tied up, you would have defeated him easily."

She trembled and lowered her gaze. "But I _was_ tied up. I was so stupid, and I almost got myself and our baby killed because of it, and—"

"But you didn't."

She shook her head. "It was just luck Mayumi turned up when she did and—"

"Katara."

"And—"

Zuko crashed his mouth against hers. She stilled in surprise. His lips were wet from the rain, soft yet bruising. Instinctively, her eyes fluttered shut. She could feel all he had been bottling up inside him in the kiss: all the fear he had felt when she had gone missing, the relief when they had been reunited, and how, right now, he just wanted her to shut up and listen.

 _Listen_ , because there were words to be heard in the silence.

The pads of his fingers traced her skin and slipped into her hair. Soft, so softly, as if to erase from her memory the awful grip Yuji had taken on the same strands. The slight pull when he did tangle his fingers into her hair as they kissed didn't put her off—it wasn't rough or painful. Zuko was anchoring himself to her. He was seeking her like a drowning man: instinctive touches that whispered she was the tether to which he wanted to be tied; that he would bind himself to her completely if it meant they didn't have to part.

 _You are my safety._

Her blood pounded in her ears. Everything in her seemed to be thudding and thudding in time to the beating of her heart. It was human nature to hold back just a little—to hide away the most vulnerable part of one's heart so as not to be crushed. Zuko was not hiding. He pressed his other hand into the small of her back and pulled her close. Their chests collided, bodies touching and moulding together through dampened cloth. His lithe limbs were built for fighting, but then so were hers now. War had changed her from that soft, untested girl who had looked with fear upon a scarred prince and his hulking, metal ship; there was strength in her thighs, in her arms. Becoming a master waterbender had refined her. When he kissed her again, she felt that. _Heard_ his reprimand for beating herself up over what had happened today.

 _You are my equal. You could never be weak._

Their tongues met in an exchange of breath. Silent words, silken caresses. He spoke of pleasure and desire: of how there was no fire more intense, more powerful than the one she made burn inside him. She was an element he could not control—did not want to control—because she made his body come alive, and he would always want to share that with her: to be skin on skin, to let their hearts beat in time with one another and their pulses quicken.

 _You are my passion._

Katara moved back with him towards the bed. Clothes were discarded as their hands sought each other and their lips touched, slanting and parting all over again in a need to be closer. It wasn't enough. The realisation was a tattoo being pounded into her core, into her very soul. Zuko had stirred something in her with his honesty that could not be denied. It was something that could only be satisfied when there was no more space between them—when all the barriers were gone and they had reached beyond unseen planes to the intrinsic.

 _I am yours and you are mine._

They both sighed in relief when he finally joined with her, sheathing himself as deep as he could go. Their bodies had been designed for this. When they moved together, it was like the world was fitting into place. All the confusion, the fear, the self-doubt—it all just melted away. This was how it was meant to be. Zuko kissed her with all he had and let her feel everything—let her _hear_ all he had been trying to say. Because he needed her. She was his strength, his home. There was no one else he wanted to rule this nation with him, and nothing was going to change that.

"I love you," he murmured as they lay together afterwards.

She stilled, not sure if she had heard correctly. Sometimes things just slipped out during sex—words, at least on her part, she knew that she would be too embarrassed to say if she weren't caught up in an orgasm. But this was different. For one, he wasn't in the middle of climaxing; for another, he'd never said those three words to her. Not once.

Zuko had been tracing lazy circles on her back, but now he shifted his hand to cup her face. His eyes were mesmerising gold and he had never looked more serious. "I love you," he repeated. "I think I've been in love with you since Ba Sing Se. I just wanted you to know."

Katara felt like she had been suckerpunched to the heart. "W-what?"

A tinge of colour spread on his cheeks. "You really need me to say it again?"

Maybe she did. He'd let her see into his heart tonight, but she'd still not expected this. She'd not expected to feel so—so—

"One more time," she pleaded.

His blush darkened, but the beginnings of a smile curved his lips as well. "I love you," he whispered. He nuzzled into her neck and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin by her ear. "I love you, Katara."

She closed her eyes and couldn't help but smile. She probably looked like an idiot, but she didn't care. Once, those words would have made her shy off. _Too soon_ , she would have thought. _Too much_. Now, it was like the last pieces of a puzzle had fallen into place. His words were her words; they had been the whole night. There was only one thing she could do in response.

"I think—" she licked her dry lips "—I think I love you too."

A hint of playfulness entered his eyes. "What was that?"

Katara almost rolled her eyes. Oh, so now he wanted to tease her. She made a big show of sighing and acting like it was a chore to please him, only to change tactics last second and pull him in for a kiss. "I love you," she said, grinning up at him.

Zuko's eyes warmed and his smile widened. The expression was so happy, so _pure_ that it made heat spread all over her body in a giddy flush. She had never thought he could make such an expression for her. But then so much had changed since their first meeting when all he had done was scowl and show anger. They were going to become husband and wife; they were going to become parents to the child growing inside her, and they were going to rule a nation together. It was a lot to ask of two teenagers. Still, as they kissed again and held each other close—as she realised how far they had come—she knew they were going to be okay.

Battles were not always won through bending and strength alone. Sometimes, it took kindness, forgiveness, and a whole lot of patience. Even today had proven that. She had not been able to beat Yuji, nor had Zuko truly won his fight in the garden, but it was because they had both softened Mayumi's rage that they were able to be together now. Maybe, just maybe, they could do the same for the Fire Nation.

* * *

I hope you like your fluff extra fluffy. There be lots of it here. Also, _Final Fantasy VII_ fans should have got my "Shin Ra" reference, but for those who didn't, it's from a video game. Good stuff. Highly recommend.

I don't know if I should say this or not because it might leave some people disappointed, but this chapter is actually the result of a massive condensing of my original story plan (which I realised was going to turn this story into something way, way lengthier than I wanted). Basically, I was going to do the whole lot more with Hisao and Yuji—especially Yuji—to help build everything up to the reveal, yadda yadda. But in the end I decided it wasn't all that necessary. WSS is a romance first with the assassin subplot being second, so yeah; I have condensed the "let's learn Yuji is a huge arsehole" arc (she says, but mostly had just been thinking "NOT ANOTHER 25+ CHAPTERED FIC!").

Ahem. And now that I have officially regressed into referring to myself in third person, it's time for sleep.

Next up: wherefore art thou, Mayumi? Oh, and royal weddings are kind of a big deal.

(Random side note: Mayumi or 真弓 means "true bow" in Japanese. So, all along her name was a clue. I'm almost tempted to write a spin-off one-shot about her, because her backstory is pretty interesting. But then I don't particularly like writing only about OCs for fanfic, so if people are interested in reading that then I might go ahead, but otherwise her backstory shall stay for my own pleasure in my head.)


	15. A New Reign

**A New Reign**

Zuko stood with deceptive docility while servants pulled on layers and layers of cloth around his body. The fabric was thick and weighty: a red and black combination, trimmed with embroidered gold. Sweat was already beginning to gather in a thin trail down his back. As Fire Lord, he was used to wearing elaborate outfits and putting up with the heat and discomfort, but dressing for today proved a whole different experience. Everything was done with meticulous detail and designed to impress. The royal tailors would not let it be said that their Fire Lord had gone underdressed to his own wedding.

His hair was pulled back and the five-pronged headpiece secured in place. The servants stepped back and bowed low, allowing him to face the mirror. Zuko scrunched his nose at his appearance. The robes were fine, he supposed—restricted his manoeuvrability more than he liked, but they weren't any more or less over the top than he'd expected. However, there was no escaping the fact he just looked young, nervous, and increasingly pale. Sixteen was considered the normal marrying age in most nations, but today felt like it should be otherwise. Then he remembered Katara was younger than him and he freaked out even more.

What had they been thinking? What if she changed her mind later and decided she didn't love him? What if—

The servants distracted him from his panic and asked if he required anything else. Zuko shook his head and dismissed them. He still had a bit of time before he was supposed to leave for the ceremony. It gave him a chance to calm down on his own. Because he needed to calm down. Right now.

"This is fine," he told himself, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. "You love each other. This is fine. She's pregnant with your kid—"

But that proved the wrong thing to say, because then he started fretting all over again about how he didn't know how to be a parent, and how it was because of that same kid they'd been rushed into marriage. Not that he didn't want to get married to Katara or even have a child with her. He did. He was crazy in love with her and that wasn't going to change. But getting married _today_ just felt too real, too fast, too—

Zuko made a frustrated sound and began pacing. He didn't even know why his chest felt so tight or why it was so hard to just breathe or—

"Now what did that poor floor do to you?"

He flinched and swung around to see his uncle. "What?"

"You're going to walk grooves into it at this rate."

When Zuko continued to stare at him blankly, Iroh chuckled and came closer.

"I'm saying that you seem on edge," the older man explained. "Is there something on your mind?"

Zuko fidgeted with his sleeve. There was a lot on his mind, but it felt like a whole big mess of tangled nonsense would come out if he even dared to open his mouth. Besides, he knew he was being ridiculous. He loved Katara. He _wanted_ to marry her. So why, _why_ was just the thought of leaving this room to have his wedding ceremony making him want to throw off his fancy robes and go hide like a coward?

"You're going to be fine, Nephew." Iroh's smile was warm and filled with understanding. "It's just pre-wedding jitters. Everyone gets them."

"Really?"

Zuko clamped his mouth shut a second later. Idiot. Now he'd just given his uncle an even bigger opening. The prickly, reserved part of him that hated baring his vulnerability cringed at the touchy-feely conversation that he knew was about to happen. And he wasn't wrong. Iroh prodded and nudged, trying to get the younger firebender to open up about his nerves or at least settle down. He even talked about his own experience with getting married. Granted, their situations were different since Iroh had an arranged marriage and had barely known the girl who had been chosen for him, but weddings, he explained, were just like that: nerve-wracking. A belly-rumbling laugh escaped Iroh as he confessed he probably wouldn't have gone through with the ceremony had he not known his father would have been furious had he pulled out.

"It's the finality of it," Iroh explained. "You're binding yourself to that person and only that person. You're promising to start a life together and live out your life together. That's a big commitment."

Zuko glanced at his hands. "I don't think it's the commitment that bothers me."

He wasn't the womanising type; he was more than happy to have Katara be the only person to share his bed.

"Then what?" Iroh prompted.

"I just—" he swallowed, fidgeting with his sleeve again "—I just worry that maybe we're too young. Katara isn't even sixteen yet. What if we can't make this work? What if—"

Iroh placed his hands on Zuko's shoulders. "You're going to be fine. I have never seen a couple more suited for each other than the two of you. Just look at how far you've come since you first agreed to get engaged."

Zuko's cheeks heated in a blush. That was true. They really had come a long way since those days when he'd struggled just to get her to give him the time of day. Plus, they'd basically been living like a married couple anyway. Even after it had become clear there were going to be no further assassination attempts—Yuji being dead, and Mayumi having vanished without a trace—Katara had not returned back to her own chambers. The subject hadn't even been broached. Zuko would be lying if he said it hadn't made him happy she'd wanted to stay. He liked having her close.

When he thought of it like that, it did seem rather foolish to be getting so worked up. All the marriage was going to do was stamp the legal seal of approval on everything. They'd already been bonded in heart and body for some time now. Yes, they were young, but so what? Nothing was going to change between them just because they went from being engaged to married.

Iroh must have noticed the tension relax from Zuko's shoulder. A smile curved his lips. "Better?" he asked.

Zuko exhaled slowly. "Better," he agreed.

The nerves were still there, but they were less edged with panic and more with anticipation. The wedding was only going to let him be closer to Katara; that wasn't so scary.

Iroh's eyes twinkled. "Well, if all else fails, you can always take some liquid courage."

Zuko's expression went flat. "You're encouraging me to get drunk before my wedding?"

"Who said anything about getting drunk? Many a man has required the services of rice wine to prepare for his nuptials. I did myself." Another hearty laugh. "Helped to take the edge off."

"I think I'll pass."

He didn't need alcohol just so he could find the courage to walk out this door and get married to the girl he loved. Iroh wasn't put off by the hint of disapproval in his nephew's tone. In fact, he beamed like Zuko had given the answer he had been waiting for all along.

"Well then," Iroh said, his eyes twinkling again. "Fire Lord Zuko, shall we go meet your bride?"

 **oOo**

The courtyard was covered in flower lanterns. The little lights were everywhere, glowing with the golden hues of flames, and spreading as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful. A total extravagance, but beautiful. Zuko and Katara had both insisted they did not need much for their wedding. The nation wasn't at its financial best, and they didn't want to make that worse. However, even Iroh had put his foot down and said it wouldn't be proper to skimp on a royal wedding.

"It's as much for the people as it is for you," Iroh had told them. "Just let it be."

So Zuko had accepted that there would be many, many decorations and that a lot of money would be spent. He supposed he could understand his uncle's point. The courtyard was teeming with people: nobles, officials, friends from their travels—anyone who had been invited or could get close enough to the area to be part of the occasion. Everyone wanted to see what they could of the wedding. Zuko was their Fire Lord, after all, and Katara was about to become their new princess.

Zuko stepped down from the palanquin and waited for the bridal procession to arrive. It was custom for the bride and groom to arrive separately, each taking their own route to the ceremonial hall. There was some symbolism behind it, but Zuko could never remember the details. Weddings had never seemed very important to him in the past; he'd been more concerned with getting his banishment lifted and stopping his crazy family from burning the world. Now, he wondered how Katara was handling all of this. He remembered the conversation they'd had about her tribe's customs.

Out of courtesy—and with a little pang of guilt—he'd asked her if she wanted to dress in the wedding clothes of her tribe since they didn't have much choice but to have a Fire Nation wedding. Katara, however, had just laughed and told him there was no special ceremony. Not on this level anyway. The Northern Water Tribe followed the tradition of carving betrothal necklaces, but there wasn't a custom like that in the Southern Water Tribe. For them, marriage was a simple, private affair. There never even used to be an official binding ceremony until more recent years.

Zuko had been stunned, to say the least. He'd thought only the Air Nomads had never bothered with weddings. Katara had been quick to point out that not having a big ceremony didn't make marriage any less meaningful for people from the Southern Water Tribe. Marriage—what it stood for and how it set the foundations for the family unit—that wasn't something that was taken lightly; there just wasn't any need for all the pomp and ceremony. Though she had admitted feasts were sometimes held if the person was a chief. There were also a lot of customs in which the prospective groom was expected to take part just to earn his bride's hand.

But as for a wedding gown? No such thing.

As such, Katara had agreed to follow Fire Nation traditions for their wedding. The good thing was that she was curious by nature and didn't seem to mind having to learn and put up with all the rituals. She claimed she found it interesting, which was more than what he could say for himself. All of it made him restless. Still, when he saw her walk towards him, surrounded by her family and those who had chosen to be part of the bride's procession, he actually appreciated the tradition of a Fire Nation wedding gown. His breath caught and his heart ached like a man who had caught a vision of bliss. "Beautiful" wouldn't do her justice. She was paradise enfolded in layers of red, gold and white: a rare flower blooming from silken petals who he couldn't believe was going to become his wife. Her hair had been pulled back into the formal wedding style, and for the first time he saw her wearing the princess's crown: crescent-shaped like a curving flame, but on her it made him think of the moon. A thin veil covered her face.

Katara stopped in front of him and bowed. He trembled slightly as he bowed back, feeling like he was falling in love with her for the first time all over again. It was difficult to focus on anything else after that. He was conscious of her warmth at his side, the touch of her hand on his arm, the subtle, floral scent teasing his senses. They walked together past the crowds of people and up to the ceremonial hall, but he only saw her. When they knelt in front of the Fire Sage and spoke the traditional words to bind their lives together, his mouth felt numb and he wasn't even sure what he said, because all he could think and see was her. Then he was allowed to lift her veil and look upon her as her husband. Katara's eyes had never looked bluer, and the smile she wore did awful things to his heart. He couldn't recover from this. Didn't even want to.

Their hands found each other and their lips brushed in a chaste kiss: gentle, loving, but very conscious of all the eyes watching. The corners of her mouth curved against his as she pulled back. That secret smile promised that there would be more kisses later—and by then no one would be watching. His heart thumped in his chest.

The Fire Sage said a final blessing, the spirits were honoured, and the ceremony was officially over. Zuko and Katara walked hand-in-hand out of the hall and headed for where they would have the wedding banquet. More flower lanterns glowed overhead, and rows upon rows of tables had been set up with delicious food and rice wine. The married couple settled themselves on the cushions at the bride and groom's table, facing the crowd of people who had gathered. He barely noticed the stares, but Katara was still getting used to being the centre of attention.

"So many people," she murmured.

He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. "The Fire Nation loves weddings. Plus, you're their princess now. People want to know you."

"I still find it weird," she admitted. "Being a princess, I mean. It was bad enough getting called 'Lady' all the time."

He laughed softly. "Trust me, you'll get used to it. Besides—" he cupped her cheek with his hand and smiled into her eyes "—I think it suits you."

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm." He held her gaze and his tone became more serious. "You were made for this, Katara: being a princess, being a ruler. The people of the Fire Nation already love you. Despite everything, despite the opposition, you won them over just by being you."

Her skin heated under his touch. "I just wanted to help."

"I know." His nose brushed her cheek as he moved to whisper in her ear. "You look beautiful, by the way. I wish we didn't have to sit through this banquet."

A chuckle escaped her. "Someone's impatient."

Zuko opened his mouth to respond, but then her hand was on his thigh and she turned to catch his lips with her own. His eyelashes fluttered at the contact. The kiss was intense and it took him off guard. A sound almost escaped him when her hand moved higher. Wait. People. There were people watching.

He blushed as she pulled back. "Um."

Katara flashed him a cheeky smile and let her hand slide down to the much more public-friendly position on his knee, though the table hid what she had done anyway. "Later," she promised.

Zuko just groaned and called her a tease. Now he was all hot and bothered and everyone was coming to congratulate them and offer gifts. She had _so_ done that on purpose. Still, he managed to scrape through everything without embarrassing himself too much. He hoped. It was difficult not to fidget and look guilty when Hakoda came, let alone when Katara's grandmot—uh, Gran-Gran—stared at him shrewdly, as if she knew he'd been having less than innocent thoughts. He figured he was a goner until the older woman cracked a tiny smile. She placed a kiss on both their foreheads and murmured something about the moon and ocean. He realised she was placing a Water Tribe blessing on them.

"Thank you, G-Gran-Gran," he said shyly.

He still couldn't say her preferred name without fumbling. Such terms of affection were foreign to him, but she only gave him that no-nonsense look that didn't quite hide the softness in her eyes.

"Take care of each other," she said. "And I expect you _both_ to visit."

Katara promised they would and hugged the older woman. Zuko noticed the tears gathering at the corner of his wife's eyes—and how strange and wonderful it was to be able to say that now: Katara was his wife.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"It's just the pregnancy hormones," she said, and then sniffed.

He allowed her to cling to the excuse, but he knew it was more than that. Tonight, they could feel everyone's well-wishes and affection—even he was moved by it. But this was also a time of goodbyes. She was going to live with him in the Fire Nation now, and soon her family would head back to the Southern Water Tribe. Their friends would also leave in time. It was going to be difficult.

"We'll visit them," he promised her. "All of them. Whenever we can."

She tucked her hand in his and smiled. They stayed that way as more people came: Iroh, Sokka, Suki, Aang, Toph—all their friends and loved ones. He'd never admit it, but there was a lump in his throat that didn't want to go away. Not that it was a bad feeling; it just reminded him that this was okay. _He_ was okay. Though his own father, sister and mother weren't there to offer blessings and congratulations, he did have a family around him right now to support him.

Everything had changed, and he was okay with that.

 **oOo**

Zuko shifted with a bit of impatience while the servants removed his wedding attire. Katara was already waiting for him in their chambers, as was tradition, and he didn't want to stay apart from her a second longer. It wasn't even about the physical pleasure; he just wanted to be close to her. All day—all the hours they'd spent in the public eye—had also kept them, for the most part, unable to _really_ take in for themselves the fact that they were now husband and wife. But now they could finally be alone.

He sighed and resisted the urge to tell the servants to hurry up. Fortunately, getting out of the robes was much faster than putting them on. Once freed from all the layers, and now dressed in his sleepwear, Zuko dismissed the servants and headed for the bedroom. It was as he was passing the balcony that the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He stilled, suddenly on guard. He'd always had good instincts, and right now those instincts were telling him that someone was close. Someone was watching him.

"Congratulations on your wedding."

He turned in an instant to face the woman wearing the red demon mask. "You."

Surprise laced his voice. When Mayumi had disappeared, he had figured that was the last he would see of her. Now, here the assassin stood. A bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over her shoulder, but she made no move to reach for them. Zuko watched her intently and shifted his feet a little, readying into a stance to attack or defend if needed. Even if this woman had saved Katara's life, he wasn't about to take any chances with his own. She had tried to kill him too many times.

Mayumi held her hands up in an appeasing gesture. "You can relax. I have not come to do you harm."

Zuko remained tense. "Why are you here? Why now?"

Her expression was hidden behind the mask, but the way her head bowed showed a hint of resignation. "I have come to surrender myself."

"W-what?"

She removed the mask and dropped it to the ground. Her face was heavily bandaged and her hair cut short. Even some of the exposed parts of her skin looked burned. His stomach twisted at the sight.

"I left so I could see the truth for myself." Mayumi discarded her bow and her arrows next and then lowered herself to the ground in a full kowtow. "Fire Lord Zuko, I cannot ask for your forgiveness. There is no excuse for what I tried to do; I can only be glad I did not succeed. I know now you are the Fire Lord this nation needs."

His breath got caught in his throat. A moment passed while he just stared at this woman bowing before him who had been so twisted with anger, so caught up in grief. The law dictated she should be executed for treason; she had even come here to let justice be done. Zuko exhaled and relaxed his stance.

"Stand up," he told her.

She did not budge.

"Stand up, Mayumi."

Slowly, she got to her feet. Her eyes remained downcast. It was strange how subservient she could be when he knew her strength. Then again, looking at her now was a bit like looking at the prince he had been in the past: lost, uncertain of how to fix all the mistakes that had been made. This was a woman who had given up—perhaps a long time ago.

"You must be in a lot of pain," Zuko observed, glancing briefly at her bandages. He turned his back on her. "Katara may be able to heal you. Follow me."

That did get her attention. "B-but I—"

"I'm well aware of what you did." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "As Fire Lord, it is my right to decide the judgement you will be given." He held her gaze. "I'm giving you another chance."

Her eyes widened. "Why? Why would you do this for me? I tried to kill you."

A self-deprecating smile curved his lips. "You're not the only one who's made mistakes."

"But—"

"You came to surrender yourself because you regret what you did, right?"

She lowered her gaze and gave a small nod.

"Then it's fine." He shrugged. "I believe you're not a threat anymore. Besides, you saved Katara's life."

"Only after I betrayed her trust and put her in danger," Mayumi pointed out. "I was a fool to follow Yuji."

"So was I when I followed my sister." Zuko shook his head. "I almost got the Avatar killed when I sided with her. I almost let the world fall to ruin just because I wanted to go home and have my father's approval." The self-deprecating smile returned. "I was selfish, and I was an idiot, but I was also lucky: I was given a second chance."

Mayumi stared at him with wide eyes.

"Mistakes can't be undone," Zuko continued softly, having learnt this lesson himself the hard way. "Still, that doesn't mean we have to let them define us." He once more met her gaze. "Take this opportunity. Show me what you can become."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don't deserve this."

"Neither did I. Not then."

He continued walking without a word. It was only a heartbeat later before the sound of her footsteps told him she was following. Zuko rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't quite how he was expecting to spend his wedding night, but then he knew Katara wouldn't mind. She was one of the people who had given him a second chance; she would understand his reasons. Besides, there were plenty of nights where he could make it up to her. It wasn't like they didn't have the time.

Tonight was the beginning of their marriage. It was also the start of a new reign: the reign of Fire Lord Zuko and Princess Katara. It only seemed fitting that they begin with an act of mercy. Second chances and acts of compassion were what had brought them together, after all. This was how the seeds of change were grown.

No more would the Fire Nation be ruled through fear. Zuko and Katara would make sure of it.

* * *

Writing weddings is hard. I might have gagged a little on all the mushiness (translation: Boogum is not a romantic. A big sap, yes, but not a romantic). Last time I do this.

Anyway, I researched a bit about Inuit culture to see what traditional weddings were like. Turns out they don't really exist. I decided to incorporate some of that into the Southern Water Tribe's culture.

Just as a side note, some of you may have wondered why I didn't go the "Fire Lady" route in this story. Well, it kind of seems like a fanon invention. Azula was still going to be called "Fire Lord", after all, which suggests it's not a gendered title. Also, people who marry the ruler of a kingdom/nation don't necessarily gain the equivalent of king/queen, so that's why I figured Zuko would be the Fire Lord, but Katara would only become a princess.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The sun was setting over the capital, making the tiled roofs burn in the colours of rust and fire. It was a beautiful sight, and Katara couldn't help the small smile that came to her lips. Even after a year, she had not grown tired of watching Fire Nation sunsets. They were just so vibrant and warm, spreading across the sky in big splashes of orange and red. It was as if the sun really were cradling the world in fiery hands. Sure, the image was nothing like the dark, mysterious skies of the South Pole, and at first she had found that jarring, but now the sunsets were just soothing to look upon. Peaceful.

At least until the baby started crying.

Katara repressed a sigh. She'd only just put her son down to sleep. Not that little Iroh cared; the shrill cries only got louder. She did sigh that time and turned to collect him, but paused when Zuko got there before her. He was still in his Fire Lord regalia, so he must have just finished up with a meeting. Her expression softened as she watched him. Zuko had been so awkward around the baby at first—scared he would do something wrong or hurt their son's fragile body. Now, he cradled the tiny figure in his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She listened to him make soothing noises to quieten the cries.

"It's okay, it's okay," Zuko mumbled. "Shhh. It's okay, Iroh."

Her smile widened. The idiot really had been nervous about nothing. Zuko was a natural: little Iroh would never have to doubt or go without his father's love. There was no way Zuko could ever be like Ozai.

Zuko finally noticed her presence and raised his eyebrow a fraction at her expression. "What?" he asked.

"I was just admiring the view."

He came to stand on the balcony with her, still cradling Iroh in his arms. "It's a nice sunset," he agreed.

She didn't bother to correct him—to say that the sight of him holding their son was far nicer in that moment. Instead, she leaned over and brushed little Iroh's cheek in an affectionate gesture. His skin was dark like hers, but his eyes were bright gold. Suddenly, the baby let out a big yawn and closed his eyes. Zuko and Katara shared a smile.

"Looks like he's falling back asleep," Zuko murmured.

She made a sound of agreement and leaned against her husband's side, wrapping an arm around his waist. Zuko had got even taller over the past year and she barely came to his shoulder now; growth, unfortunately, seemed to be an incremental thing for her. Still, when he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head, murmuring that he'd missed her and Iroh today, she felt that same sense of peace. This was her family. This boy she called husband and the little baby in his arms were the centre of her world. She had never been happier.

Katara smiled and glanced back at the sunset colouring the world in shades of fire. The little girl from the Southern Water Tribe had all grown up and found a new land to call home. Of course, she would never forget her heritage, but she was the wife of the Fire Lord—had duties to the people just as he did—and now they had family of their own. New roots had been planted. It hadn't been an easy journey, but it was one she would do all over again if given the choice.

She had no regrets.

* * *

And with that we have reached the end of _With Small Steps_. I hope you have enjoyed this story! Like I said in the prologue, this fic is very different to my usual stuff, so it has been a challenge for me. Still not sure I'm a fan of writing straight romance—at least not for multi-chapter stories.

Also, some of this epilogue might seem familiar, and that's because I took bits of it from my drabble "Serenity", which can be found in the _Where the Ocean and Sky Collide_ collection. It just seemed to fit (and I'm tired and remembered I had written it, so I was like 'why not?' Can't plagiarise my own work, lol).

Anyway, thanks for reading! The voting to decide my next Zutara fic has been very close (see my profile to find the poll), but I do plan to write whichever one wins the top vote; I just won't start uploading it until I've actually finished the story. I'll be closing that poll by the end of next week, so get your vote in if you want to have a say. :)


End file.
